


Mud, Stars and You

by Beaa



Series: Karakomasai Farm [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Daichi owns a farm, F/F, Farmer Iwaizumi, Iwaizumi is gorgeous and Oikawa has a crush, Iwaizumi swears a lot, M/M, Model Oikawa, Oikawa hates dirt, and he has hired everybody, everybody is in love, farm au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-04-08 17:20:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 74,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4313712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beaa/pseuds/Beaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa, short on money due to a lack of modelling jobs, is forced to take a job at a local farm as a farmhand. He hates mud, he hates wind, and he hates brambles. He cannot see the next few weeks being at all enjoyable. That is, until he is introduced to the very attractive Iwaizumi Hajime, fellow farmhand.</p>
<p>Oikawa hates mud, but he doesn't mind Iwaizumi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Brambles

Oikawa Tooru did not like mud. He had told that to his agent multiple times. Oikawa Tooru liked his hair, being complemented, and aliens. Clearly, however, Oikawa's constant nagging _still_ hadn't gotten the message across. This was made clear when Oikawa found himself driving down a dirt path toward his new part-time job. His inevitably muddy part-time job.

"I need a new agent." Oikawa gripped tightly onto the steering wheel as he hit yet another hole in the narrow road. He clenched his jaw as relentless brambles scratched the side of his car. If he found even a single mark, he was suing.

Oikawa Tooru hated mud, wind (it ruined his hair), and now brambles. They didn't care how much this paint job had cost him. In hindsight, the paint job was the entire reason Oikawa had needed to find a part-time job. His mother had told him to watch his money. He hadn't. He hadn't needed to until recently; all the newest modelling jobs were being snatched by this new 'up and coming' model. What was his name? Akaashi?

Akaashi Keiji was drop-dead gorgeous. With his lustrous dark hair, Akaashi could win any modelling contract. His hair shone like newly varnished wood, glinting dangerously under the insistent camera flashes. His eyes glistened enticingly. They were sharp, deadly, stunning. His teeth, pearly white behind his baby pink lips, nicer than Oikawa's teeth-

No. Oikawa was perfect. He knew that. Girls loved him, boys couldn't resist him, and people stopped to gawk at him on the street. Oikawa wasn't intimidatingly attractive like Akaashi; he thought of himself as a more approachable sort of attractive. Recently, though, he'd been beginning to question himself. He used to look in the mirror and consider himself void of all flaws. Now he struggled to compliment himself. His eyes were pretty, he supposed. His hair was still his pride and joy- the one thing he had left that he felt beat Akaashi.

A quaint cottage rose into Oikawa's view, tucked away at the end of the dirt path. The brambles, which had undoubtedly done their worst to his car, loosened their embrace to reveal an expanse of dried mud which appeared to double as a carpark. A number of cars were abandoned there, all covered in crusty dirt, much to Oikawa's distaste. A dull green Range Rover was closest to the cottage. It clearly hadn't been cleaned in years. The paint was peeling and cobwebs trailed from the wing mirror to the bonnet. Next to this was a rundown old Fiat, the black paint barely reflecting the bright sunlight. Inside the car, sat on the dashboard, were two plush toys. Two crows. One looked way too happy to be sat in a boiling hot car, and the other reflected Oikawa's exact emotion at that moment- irritation.

Oikawa pulled his car in next to the black one. He hoped the Fiat wouldn't kick up too much dirt if it drove away before him. He wanted to leave this place without needing to clean his car. Something told him that wasn't going to happen.

Oikawa slammed his head back against the headrest. He did not have high hopes for this new job. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing for a miracle. Anything would do. Money to fall from the sky, modelling contracts coming from all angles, his car to explode... He was getting desperate.

A sudden banging to his right caused Oikawa to practically leap out of his seat. His head collided with the sun visor he had pulled down earlier, resulting in an almighty 'thump'.

"Dammit," Oikawa muttered, rubbing his forehead and checking for any signs of a bump. He wouldn't receive any modelling jobs with a massive bruise on his head.

After he was satisfied that there was no serious damage, Oikawa looked for the source of the noise. A man, probably about his age, stood just outside the driver's window. He smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. Now Oikawa couldn't stay hidden away in his car. He sighed, closing the sun visor before he injured himself further. Unbuckling his belt, the brown haired boy pushed the door open and swung himself out in one swift movement.

Oikawa was slightly taller than the man who had so rudely torn him from his reverie. Oikawa scrutinised him carefully. He looked friendly enough, an awkward smiled plastered on his face.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you jump," he offered Oikawa his hand. "I'm Sugawara Koushi, your new colleague. Welcome to Karakomasai Farm!"

"Nice to meet you, Sugawara. I'm Oikawa Tooru, the new part-timer." Oikawa took his hand, shaking it as he forced what he hoped represented a friendly smile onto his face.

Sugawara's face exploded into a huge grin, his eyes crinkling at the sides. His hair, an intriguing silver colour, seemed to sparkle under the relentless heat of the sun. A beauty mark just beneath his left eye added an endearing uniqueness to his appearance. He was cute, angelic almost. His pure beauty contrasted heavily with the tattered overalls he was wearing. It certainly was not a fashionable ensemble. The hideous green material was caked in what Oikawa hoped was mud. It was fraying at the sleeves, loose threads hanging from the joints. There were a number of mismatched squares of material, sewn haphazardly over holes and tears in the overalls. This drab green colour combined with the filthy black wellington boots was almost too much for Oikawa. He was used to wearing high street fashion- shirts emblazoned with bright patterns, trousers fashionably ripped and tatty, shoes made for aesthetic rather than comfort- not abhorrent overalls.

"Oh, call me Suga!" Sugawara- no, Suga- waved his hands in the air. The pair fell into an awkward silence as Oikawa looked disdainfully at Suga's mucky overalls. He hoped he would be given less filthy jobs. _Were_ there any clean jobs on a farm? Animals stunk and flung their faeces around, fields were muddy, and his surroundings were dusty. He was not used to this. What if they got him to muck out stables or something? If they even _tried_ to get him to do such a disgusting job, he would walk out. Oikawa Tooru would rather lose his newly painted car than lose his dignity in a stinky horse stable.

"Uhm, I suppose I should take you in to meet Daichi. He owns this place, so he'll be making sure you're doing okay. He's pretty busy at the minute, so he'll probably hand you over to one of the farmhands to teach you the ropes." Suga broke the awkward silence, a bright grin still plastered on his face, his eyes crinkling.

He gestured for Oikawa to follow him, spinning on his heel in the dirt. Suga was headed toward the cottage, talking as he went. Oikawa wasn't really listening to his story- something about a guy named Hinata and a cow- but was instead taking in his surroundings. The area was certainly picturesque, fields and forests running for miles around them. The blue sky was almost entirely void of clouds, only tiny tendrils of white fluff dragging themselves laboriously across the sea of sky.

The cottage that stood in front of him seemed to fit in with the surroundings. Oikawa could barely make out that it was painted white, due to the copious amounts of ivy crawling up the walls. It coated the walls and tangled itself around the mouldy drainpipes, threatening to spill in through the windows. The emerald green leaves danced elegantly in the wind, all seeming to follow a well practised routine. Oikawa wondered how long the ivy had been working its way up the house. The dirt cleared away enough to reveal a cobbled pathway that led up to the front door. The door was painted a questionable orange colour. The paint was flaking away, loose pieces joining in with the elaborate dance of the ivy. It looked cosy, though Oikawa was not sure he could live there himself.

"It needs a little TLC, I know. I keep telling Daichi we need to tame the ivy a little, but we never really get around to it." Suga smiled fondly at the house, his eyes twinkling with memories.

"No," Oikawa patted Suga's back lightly. "It has charisma."

"Oh, is that what it is? I just thought we were too lazy to take care of it."

"Maybe a bit of that too."

"You're not meant to agree!"

Oikawa grinned, holding up his hands defensively, "Hey, you said it! Besides, as a newbie, I'm not allowed to disagree with my superiors."

Suga chuckled lightly before walking toward the front door. He shoved it open, causing the hinges to scream in protest. Suga kicked off his boots and dumped them just inside the doorway. Oikawa followed him into the entry room. The floor was tiled, clearly anticipating the amount of mud that would be dragged inside. Oikawa removed his trainers, laying them neatly beside Suga's carelessly discarded Wellington boots. Suga had already exited the entry room, and Oikawa rushed to follow him.

"Daichiiii! The newbie is here!" Suga called.

Oikawa found himself in a sparsely decorated hallway, save for a few pictures hanging on the walls. The pictures held memories of Sugawara and a man with dark hair. A picture of them working on the farm, another of them on holiday together, one more of them in what Oikawa assumed was a volleyball uniform. On the opposite wall was a plethora of certificates; most of them were for Sugawara, declaring that he had won at some horse riding event, all of which were accompanied by a brightly coloured ribbon. Three doors led off from the short hallway, and a carpeted staircase was situated at the end of the hall.

"Do you want something to drink? We've got loads of green tea; Daichi has been hooked on that stuff lately."

"No thanks," Oikawa replied. "I could really do with a generous glass of sake though."

Suga chuckled, "I can empathise, city boy."

Suga led Oikawa through into a cosy looking living room. He signalled for Oikawa to take a seat, before excusing himself from the room. Oikawa sunk into the chair, hoping that he could drown in the depths of the spongy sofa. He could disappear into the soft pillows, never to be seen again. He could live a happy life as a pillow; maybe the pillow people would actually offer him some _damn_ modelling jobs. They'd appreciate his gorgeous brown hair and luscious, chocolate brown eyes. Maybe he'd find a nice wife, or an amazing husband. They'd appreciate him for who he was, rather than the money he did or didn't have. They'd raise children who he would support to the best of his abilities. He'd love them and-

"Daichi, I got your call and- who the hell are you?" Oikawa, for the second time that day, jumped out of his skin. He had been rudely interrupted and violently removed from his fantasies. Oikawa turned, ready to snap. His intentions changed completely as soon as he set his eyes on the man who had just bombarded his way into Oikawa's daydreams.

"Well, hello," Oikawa slunk off the sofa, rejecting his pillow family for a much more delectable alternative. "I'm Oikawa Tooru. Model." He stuck his tongue out from between his lips, holding a peace sign in the man's face. Nobody could resist that; it was his signature pose.

The man standing before him was shorter by a couple of inches. His hair stuck up haphazardly in every direction. It was a gorgeous chestnut colour, deep and rich like freshly brewed coffee. His eyes were a beautiful brown, with green flecks shooting out from around the pupil like an emerald flame. His cheekbones and jawline were perfectly chiselled, set in his face as though they were sculpted as carefully as a marble statue. A light stubble ran the length of his jaw. It ran up into the depths of his hair, and Oikawa felt the urge to trace it, to follow the tempting path into his soft hair, maybe even tangle his fingers in the little hairs at the back of his neck. At this close distance, Oikawa could see a thin scar running vertically through the man's left eyebrow. His skin was lightly tanned, probably from long hours working out in the fields under the intense heat of the sun. This man was so attractive that Oikawa was willing to ignore the filthy jeans clad in mud and the shirt that had certainly seen better days. Especially as the shirt fell loose around his neck, giving Oikawa a lovely view of his sharp collar bones and pectoral muscles.

The man backed out of the door, "Daichi, who's this asshat?"

Oikawa frowns, reverting his tongue and lowering his peace sign to his side. Normally that works. Maybe he really was losing his touch. _Twenty one and already washed-up,_ Oikawa thought.

"I told you to stop calling Suga that, Iwaizumi." A teasing tone can be heard in the disembodied voice.

There was a muffled 'hey!' from the room opposite. Iwaizumi was practically shoved back into the room by a man that Oikawa recognised from the photos he had seen in the hallway. This must be Daichi. Daichi stood slightly shorter than Iwaizumi. His build was thicker, but his face was a lot friendlier. He looked too young to own a farm; he must've been about the same age as Oikawa. He couldn't imagine taking on that sort of responsibility. He could barely cook for himself, let alone manage all of the tasks that running a farm entailed. He'd already proven that he couldn't manage his own money, so there was no way he could budget a farm.

"Nice to finally meet you, Oikawa. I'm Sawamura Daichi, owner of this wonderful farm." Daichi held out his hand to Oikawa. Oikawa took it, before following Daichi in his move to find a seat. Daichi sat back, sighing heavily and stretching out his long legs. It appeared as though he was fresh out of the shower, his hair fluffy and still slightly damp on the underside. Daichi waved his hand lazily in Iwaizumi's general direction, "I see you've already met Iwaizumi."

"I certainly have," Oikawa winked at Iwaizumi, whose face contorted in a look of sheer disgust as he sat in the armchair adjacent to Oikawa.

"Your agent said you're extremely hardworking. Is that true?"

"Well, I mean, I _am_ the hardest working person I know." Oikawa grinned, flexing his biceps playfully.

"Good, because we're seriously gonna need your help over the next few months. Most of our cows have already calved, so that means it's almost peak time for milk production. Not to mention all the work that needs to be done readying the new fields to move the cows, because they've already almost eaten all of the grass in their current field."

 _Over the next few months?_ Oikawa had expected this to be a short-term employment. He'd come in, earn enough money to pay off his debts and then leave as soon as humanly possible. He certainly was not looking for a permanent job. Of course, if Oikawa was offered an amazing modelling opportunity, then he'd have to take it. He'd leave the farm without a second thought. There was nothing tying him there aside from his lack of money. Oikawa had no interest in calving or milking.

"Sounds good," Oikawa lied.

At that moment, Suga entered the room, balancing a tea tray on one hand and a biscuit barrel on the other. He placed them both down on the little round table in the centre of the room. He gave Daichi a quick peck on the cheek before sitting down next to him, nibbling on a chocolate biscuit. So, Daichi and Suga were _that_ close.

"I'm glad you think so," Daichi leant forward and grabbed a mug of steaming tea. "Because I'm sure Iwaizumi is going to love working with someone so enthusiastic."

To Oikawa's left, Iwaizumi almost choked on the tea he was drinking. He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth before speaking.

"No," he waved his hands wildly. "There is no way I'm working with _him._ " He hissed, spitting out the last word as though it tasted dirty.

"Y'know, Iwa-chan, for someone so pretty, you're awfully mean."

A nerve jumped in Iwaizumi's jaw, "Don't call me that."

"I think it's cute."

"I don't."

"I think you're cute."

" _You're_ not cute."

"You're right, I'm not cute," Oikawa smiled deviously. "I'm hot. Melt your ice cream hot."

Iwaizumi scoffed. His indifference to Oikawa's incessant flirting only made him more interesting. It had been a long time since he'd met someone who had more on their mind than his appearance. It was refreshing.

Daichi and Suga had reclined back in their chair, allowing the event to unfold in front of them. Suga pulled his knees up to his chest and continued to nibble on his biscuit as he rested his chin on his legs. Daichi slung his arm over the back of the chair, trailing his finger back and forth over Suga's shoulder. Their heads bobbed back and forth, as though watching a tennis match, as the pair quarrelled incessantly. Daichi decided to put an end to it, much to Suga's disappointment.

"Well," he clapped his hand to Iwaizumi's back. "I can tell you two are going to get along just fine."

Iwaizumi grumbled something incoherent, though Oikawa was certain it was a string if curse words.

"Want a tour of the farm, Oikawa?" Daichi asked.

"Of course! I can't _wait_ to see all of the adorable animals."

"You've obviously never seen a cow," Iwaizumi drawled.

"Hey," Daichi snapped. "All my girls are beautiful, thank you very much."

"Yeah, when you're stood at the right end. I always end up dodging cow shit left, right and centre when Asahi and the others need help milking."

Oikawa grimaced. Dodging cow faeces did not sound appealing. What if it got in his hair? Ew. Mud was bad enough, but _cow crap?_

Iwaizumi noticed Oikawa's blatant disgust, "Don't worry, city boy, it's good for your skin."


	2. Mischief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa learns how to milk a cow. He also learns what Iwaizumi's chest feels like.

Chapter 2

Oikawa was glad he'd worn his scruffy trainers. The farm was larger than he'd imagined, miles of rolling green fields like an emerald ocean stretching out behind the quaint little farmhouse. It was connected neatly by a dusty dirt path, lined with a wooden fence with peeling paint and overflowing foliage. It was like something out of a children's book, all untouched, virgin nature and pretty flowers of all colours, from milky white to shocking pink. It was nice to breathe fresh air for once. It seemed to cleanse his lungs, washing out all the sticky car fumes. As much as he loved the city, he'd forgotten the smell of uncorrupted air, relishing in the feel of the cool, crisp oxygen rushing into his lungs.

Daichi had shown him countless fields. He'd been told all the rules; if you open a gate, shut it behind you. Don't touch the electric fence. Don't stand behind the cows or horses. Don't stare the cows in the eyes. Don't chase the chickens, they'll find their way back to their own field. It was a lot of walking, a lot of rules, and a lot of mud. Oikawa admired Daichi; he was a hard worker. Iwaizumi- well, he'd already done _a lot_ of admiring Iwaizumi.

"And here," Daichi spun on his heel, opening his arms dramatically. "Is the piece de resistance!"

It was underwhelming, to say the least. Daichi's elaborate declaration of their arrival only helped the building to seem less impressive. If this was the main attraction, as Daichi put it, then Oikawa didn't even want to _know_ how dull the rest of the place must be.

The building was built up of red bricks, though the colour had faded slightly over the years, leaving a brown tint. Weeds protruded from the ground and clambered up the wall. The corrugated iron roof seemed to be starting its own ecosystem, having gathered ridiculous amounts of fuzzy green moss. The dusty, dried mud ended abruptly at a set of steps dug into the grown, leading down into the building, dull grey ridden with sprouting cracks. It wasn't a particularly impressive building, and as Daichi led them inside, it became even _less_ impressive. Oikawa was surprised that was possible. Daichi was enamoured by it.

They stood in what appeared to be a storage room. It was lit only by the light that streamed in through the open door. Muddy wellington boots were scattered around the room. On the walls, aside from the plethora of shimmering cobwebs, hung a collection of overalls. Oikawa shivered. _Overalls?_ As if he'd ever be caught dead in one of _those._ Oikawa Tooru had never committed a fashion faux pas, and he was _not_ about to start now.

"You're pretty tall," Daichi observed. "You could probably borrow one of Tsukishima's overalls until we get you your own. I would offer you one of Kuroo's but his are all covered in paint since the incident with Bokuto. Kenma hasn't been the same since." Daichi shook his head, as though remembering some sort of traumatic event.

"Did Kenma ever get the paint out of his hair?" Iwaizumi plucked bottle green overalls from the wall.

"Yeah, but he'll never get it out of his memories."

The pair nodded solemnly at each other. Oikawa just blinked owlishly, gaping slightly. His eyes lingered on Iwaizumi for a minute. He watched the way his muscles flexed under his tight shirt as he pulled his overalls on. He admired the way the glimmering sunlight draped his frame, a blanket of warm golden light. It accentuated the steady slope of his back, broken only by the undulating ripple of muscles. His dark hair was haloed by the light, giving him a tantalisingly ethereal appearance, majestic almost. His strong hands worked at the front of his overalls, muscles jumping with each popper he clicked in place. Oikawa couldn't help but think about how easy they'd be to undo.

"Here," Daichi thrust navy blue overalls into his chest. "Pull these on."

"Oh, Daichi, this is just my colour! How did you know?" Oikawa started to pull them over his legs.

"Are you always this loud?" Iwaizumi scowled.

"I _can_ be louder, Iwa-chan." Oikawa winked.

Iwaizumi choked on his inhale, "Th-that's not- no. No."

Oikawa finished buttoning himself in. The material was itchy and the sleeves hung over his hands slightly. It was clean, much to his relief, but the faint smell of damp and grass clung to it. There could have been much worse smells, he supposed. He rolled the sleeves up slightly so they rested neatly around his slender wrists.

"How do I look? Feel free to flatter me, I'm used to it." Oikawa spread his arms wide, pouting comically.

"Like you usually do," Iwaizumi said.

"Perfect?"

"No, like a dumbass."

"Rude, Iwa-chan! You're so mean."

"It's not mean if it's the truth."

Oikawa frowned and brought his hands down to rest at his hips. Iwaizumi's behaviour intrigued him. It wasn't often that someone was so neutral about him. He was used to having people run to his every beck and call, used to having strangers love him merely because of the way he looked. They knew nothing about him, aside from the pictures they'd seen on billboards or in magazines, yet they doted on him. As much as he loved the superficial attention, he wanted _more._ He wanted someone who knew him, who understood him and actually _cared_ about him. He was fed up of shallow relationships, those that only existed because of mutual physical attraction. What good was that when he wanted someone to talk to? What good was that when they had nothing in common?

Iwaizumi was different. It enticed Oikawa, like a child to a toy it knew it couldn't have.

Oikawa was about to reply when Daichi cleared his throat. The sound ricocheted off of the bare walls, seeming to whistle through the intricate cobwebs.

"If you two are done," he gave the pair a stern look. "We need to go in and help with the milking."

"Okay, but just so you know, I am _not_ squeezing any teats." Oikawa folded his arms over his chest in an attempt to look authoritative.

Daichi and Iwaizumi shared a glance, before both doubling over in laughter. Oikawa frowned. Why were they laughing? He'd had images of himself sat on a tiny wooden stool beside a cow, milking her into a rusty old metal bucket.

"This isn't the nineteenth century, stupid," Iwaizumi managed between breaths laboured from laughing.

"There will be no squeezing of teats, I can assure you," Daichi said.

"Unless you count cleaning them."

"Jesus, no, don't squeeze them! You'll give my poor girls a real shock."

"And they'll probably kick you in the fa- hey, actually yeah, squeeze away. I need a good laugh."

Oikawa pouted. If there was one thing he hated, then it was people mocking him. He stood there, arms folded over his chest, tapping his fingers impatiently against his bicep. The tapping of his foot matched this tempo, a chorus to resemble his annoyance at the pair. He waited as they tried to catch their breaths, Iwaizumi bent with his hands on his knees and Daichi leaning into him for support. The spiky haired man brought a hand up to wipe at a loose tear. Oikawa just rolled his eyes.

"Look, are we milking the cows or not?"

Daichi took a shaky breath, "Right, yeah, sorry."

The pair seemed to gain control, though an amused smile still played along Iwaizumi's lips, the memory of a good joke still lingering in his dark eyes. Daichi sauntered towards a rotting wooden door set in the wall at the right of the room. He pushed it open with ease, before leading the pair through into a large, open room.

The noise was intense. The sound of whirring machines, cows mooing in an indecipherable code, and people shouting above the mayhem. It was like being back on a photo shoot.

Wires hung from the ceiling, leading to some strange contraption that looked like an octopus, dangling legs swaying. Some of the contraptions were attached to the cows udders. _Oh,_ the model thought, _that's why they were laughing at me._

"Ah, Noya! A-are you okay?" A tall man was knelt down on the floor. He was well built, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His chestnut brown hair was tied back into a bun at the back of his head, loose tendrils framing his handsomely angular face. A caring expression adorned his features, his lips turning down in a worried pout.

"'M fine, stop worrying!" The shorter man, Noya, was sat on the floor next to Mr Man-Bun, sounding exasperated as his shoulder was patted lightly. He had a much more slender build, his pale skin contrasted heavily by his shocking black hair and odd blonde streak.

"But your head-"

"It's fine, Asahi, seriously."

"You might have concussion, we should call an ambulance and get you checked up. What if you get amnesia? You'd forget everything. _You'd forget how to milk a cow."_

"Is that all you're worried about?"

Asahi blinked, "W-well no, but..."

The rest was drowned out by the squealing of machines. Oikawa felt that was for the best, as a light tint painted Noya's cheeks. Daichi walked down toward them. The pair snapped their heads up, Daichi's presence finally registering. They rushed to their feet, Asahi nervously tucking loose hairs behind his ears whilst Noya stood to attention, hand to his forehead in a salute.

"Why aren't you milking the cows?" Daichi demanded.

Asahi swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing, "W-we were, but we had an incident."

"Incident?"

Asahi and Noya shared a glance. Daichi tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for a reply. He had a height advantage over the two, mainly because he stood two steps higher than them. The plateau that lined the walls of the room was fenced off. There were open doors within this fenced off plateau, a pair at the end closest to Oikawa and a pair at the opposite end. Inky black noses poked through the open doors at the opposite end of the room, long lashes blinking over dark eyes as the cows stared in curiously, clearly confused by the holdup. They chattered amongst themselves, probably spreading gossip about the milking delay.

"Well Shouyou ran in asking for help because Mischief broke out of the milking line again and she was trying to eat Kageyama, like she usually does. So Yachi went to help because, y'know, she's the only one Mischief will listen to." Noya waved his arms about wildly, jumping around to illustrate the dramatic nature of the story.

"I like Mischief," Oikawa muttered.

"Hm," Iwaizumi nodded. "Y'know, I've heard she has a taste for designer clothes. I'd steer clear, if I were you."

" _Orrrrrrr,_ " Oikawa rested his hand on Iwaizumi's bicep. He swallowed a lump as he felt the undeniable shape of muscle, firm and shapely under his palm. "You could protect me, Iwa-chan."

The shorter man scoffed, "I'd feed you to her. No doubt."

"So _cold_."

Noya was nudging Asahi in the ribs, silently urging him to continue the story. Daichi arched a brow. He was scarily imposing when he needed to be. Asahi scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, scuffing his toes into the ground and clearing his throat.

"So then it was only Yuu and me left milking, and we haven't quite got used to the automated milk clusters yet. So when one finished milking, it let go and flew back, and Noya sort of headbutted it? I don't know, I heard a thunk. I didn't know his head was so solid. It was actually quite impressive."

Noya beamed at this odd form of praise, rocking forward onto the balls of his feet. His smile was wide and his teeth bright white. He was excitable, loud and energetic. Oikawa wasn't sure he'd be able to keep up. It was like trying to keep up with Takeru after he'd eaten a full bag of sugary sweets.

"Yeah, I think I'm too tall for this milking business. I was almost decapitated!" The messy haired boy was way too hyper for someone who'd barely evaded death.

"Too tall?" Oikawa blurted out before he could stop it.

Everyone went quiet. Even the machines seemed to have stopped making their racket, an intimidating silence quilting the room. Everybody's eyes we're on him. He could see Iwaizumi smirking out of the corner of his eyes, as if he knew what was going to happen next. Daichi's eyes were flicking between Noya and Oikawa, waiting for someone to make the first move, ready to swoop in and stand between them if it got too violent. Asahi had a look of pity as he cast a glance at Oikawa.

It was Noya's eyes, though, that were the most intriguing. The deep brown glinted with something threatening, his piercing glare like glass right through Oikawa's head. His brows rose in challenge, as though daring Oikawa to speak, daring him to overstep the boundaries. He was surprisingly intimidating, despite his small stature. Noya climbed the steps and shook Asahi's hand off of his wrist.

"What? You think I'm too short, huh? Is that it? Huh?" Noya was in front of Tooru now, hopping from one foot to the other as he waggled his fists in the taller boy's face.

"Well I'm not saying you're too tall, that's for sure."

"Wh- what's that meant to mean? Don't use mind games on me, you messy haired giant!"

Oikawa gasped, "Messy haired? Iwa-chan, is my hair messy? I left my compact in the car! You should've told me."

Iwaizumi shrugged his shoulders, "It looks the same to me."

Oikawa desperately patted at his hair, trying to smooth down the wayward flicks of hair that crowned his head. Oikawa Tooru hated the wind. His hair was his pride and joy. Anything that posed a threat to it was an enemy.

"Can I start calling you Iwa-chan?" Noya smiled slyly at Iwaizumi, who glowered in return.

"I'll feed you to Mischief if you do."

"Oh? Is that a special nickname saved for this handsome gentleman?" Noya bowed in Oikawa's direction.

"No! He just won't stop using it," Iwaizumi sputtered.

"Sure, whatever you say _Iwa-chan._ But we all know you like a pretty boy," Noya winked, making gun shapes with his hands and pointing them at Iwaizumi. Noya then spun around in a blur to face Oikawa. "I'm Nishinoya Yuu, best damn milker Karakomasai farm has ever seen!"

"Noya..." A meek voice came.

"And that's Azumane Asahi, my _gorgeous_ boyfriend. Oh, and also a pretty damn good milk dude." Noya added quickly, after a quiet objection from a blushing Asahi.

"Oikawa Tooru," he gave his best grin. "Model."

Noya clapped his arm, "Well, I hope cow crap is good for your skin, because there has been a lot of it today!"

Oikawa grimaced. Iwaizumi chuckled beside him. Daichi rubbed his hands together, clearing his throat to grab everyone's attention.

"Right, well if that's it for introductions, then let's resume with the milking. Iwaizumi, show Oikawa what to do."

Noya and Asahi prepared themselves, heading toward the gates that stopped the cows from flooding into the fenced off plateau. Oikawa watched in wonderment as they pulled the metal gates open, a screeching sound accompanying the action. The cows clearly knew what to do, all flooding in one by one and lining up neatly along the plateau, noses straight into the dried grass stuffed into the metal troughs that lined the wall.

Daichi handed everyone a pair of blue disposable gloves. Oikawa followed Iwaizumi down the stairs. Iwaizumi picked up a sheet of what looked like tissue paper before reaching under the cow to clean its udder.

"Ew," Oikawa scrunched his nose up. "What are you doing?"

"Cleaning. They'll get an infection else."

"Oh."

"When you do this, don't put too much pressure, you might hurt her. But don't be too soft, you need to remove any unwanted dirt, okay?"

Oikawa nodded, biting his bottom lip. He was going to mess this up. He was going to hurt the cow and then get kicked in the face. It would be _really_ difficult to get any modelling jobs with a cow hoof lodged in his face. As if it wasn't difficult enough already.

"Hey," Iwaizumi frowned. "Are you freaking out? It's really not that difficult."

Oikawa swallowed, trying to maintain his cool veneer, "I'm not freaking out! I'm just a bit worried about being that close to a cow's- y'know."

All traces of sympathy left Iwaizumi's face. He rolled his eyes, but failed to hide the amused smile that graced his appearance. It was a small smile, sure, but it was a smile all the same. Oikawa couldn't explain why he felt so happy about having made Iwaizumi (sort of) smile. Maybe it was the way it completely changed his features; light dimples were embedded into his cheeks, hidden partially by the dark, coarse hairs of his unshaven face. It made his eyes twinkle softly, exaggerating the leaf green shards hidden among the bark brown iris. It lit up his entire face, this one small appearance of a smile. Oikawa couldn't help but wonder what an even bigger smile would look like. His heart fluttered at the thought.

"Look, you only need to dodge if the tail goes up."

"How am I meant to see that if I'm underneath trying to clean?"

"Just clean the cow, Oikawa."

Iwaizumi thrust the paper toward Oikawa. Oikawa took it. He screwed his face up as he neared the cow, left arm going underneath. This was strange. It wasn't gross. It was just odd.

_Please don't crap, please don't crap, please don't crap._

"That's enough." Oikawa pulled away at the sound of Iwaizumi's gruff call. He threw the used sheet in the bin.

Iwaizumi grabbed one of the strange octopus contraptions and walked over to the cow. Oikawa tilted his head. This thing was weird.

"This is a milking cluster. These ones are kinda a new model, designed to release when the cow is done with milking."

"That's why spiky hair almost lost his head?"

Iwaizumi nodded, "Yeah, so be careful, wouldn't want to damage your face. It's probably worth a fortune."

Oikawa beamed, "You think my face is worth a fortune? So sweet, Iwa-chan!"

Iwaizumi turned away quickly, heading back toward the cow they had cleaned. Oikawa was probably mistaken, but he thought he saw a light blush crawling up the back of the darker haired man's neck and tinting his earlobes an adorable pinky red. People always blushed around Oikawa, but this was different. This made him feel funny. It made him feel something. It scared him a little.

"So you've got to attach each cup at the right angle. It's like a vacuum, so as soon as you've got it close enough to the udder then it'll just suction itself on. Make sure to get it on at the right angle though, if you don't get it quite right it can hurt her."

Iwaizumi attached one with ease. He had clearly done this before. He did the next one, too, leaving two more for Oikawa to do. He took one in his hand, reaching under the cow to try and copy Iwaizumi. There was a sudden pull as the cup began to suction itself to the udder. It didn't look the same as Iwaizumi's, instead hanging off at a slightly odd angle, screaming quietly as it hung off of the udder, the loose bit still trying to grip on.

"Take it off and try again." Iwaizumi was leant up against the metal gate, strong arms folded over his chest as he watched Oikawa. From this angle Oikawa could see his perfectly defined jaw line, chiselled like a sculpture into rock. His soft, pink lips stood out enticingly against his dark stubble, delicate flesh against rough hair. Oikawa wouldn't mind feeling the contrast against his own lips. He'd rest his hands on his firm chest, too, maybe even run his hands up and down Iwaizumi's shapely arms.

_No,_ Oikawa thought, _you're falling too easily again. You'll get hurt. Like you always do._

"Ugh!" Oikawa failed, for the fourth time, to get the cup on properly.

Iwaizumi sighed and pushed himself off of the wall, sauntering toward Oikawa. He ran his hand through his hair. Oikawa tried to ignore how this action revealed more of his face, all tantalising angles and deliciously smooth skin.

"Take it off."

"Bit forward, aren't we, Iwa-chan?"

Iwaizumi sent him daggers. Oikawa just batted his lashes innocently, tilting his head and smiling coyly. He decided to remove the cup quickly as Iwaizumi continued glaring.

"I can't get the right angle! This is stupid."

"You just need to go straight up, because if you tilt slightly, you'll leave a gap and that's when it becomes uncomfortable for them."

Oikawa lifted it again. He felt Iwaizumi's breath against his ear as he let out a sigh. His breath was hot. Oikawa hoped he didn't see the shiver it sent down his spine.

"Here," Iwaizumi reached over to clasp his hand around Oikawa's. His palm was warm. It was slightly calloused, rough against the softness of Oikawa's own skin. It made Oikawa's blood feel hot. He'd barely know this man for a couple of hours, yet he did something to him. Was this love at first sight? No, Oikawa didn't believe in that. Too optimistic for him. It was probably just lust. Who wouldn't lust over a highly attractive, wonderfully muscular and dangerously handsome farmhand?

That didn't explain why Tooru's breath caught in his throat as Iwaizumi touched him. Had his heart stopped beating, or was it just beating too fast to register? Was it the sound of machines clanging in his ears, or the rushing of blood?

"Like that," Iwaizumi's chest was against Oikawa's back as he guided his hand to the perfect position over the udder. Oikawa could feel every ridge, every slope and every dip. He could feel the flex of muscles as Iwaizumi reached around him to direct his hand. He felt like he was going to faint.

"Now do the next one."

"R-right! Watch and learn, Iwa-chan." Oikawa smiled weakly.

Oikawa guided the final cup upwards. Within seconds, he'd attached it perfectly. He grinned triumphantly. Iwaizumi smiled lightly. God, he didn't think he'd ever get tired of that smile. He'd do _anything_ to see that smile again.

"Nice, now onto the next ones."

They continued like that for the next hour or so, stream of cows following stream of cows. It seemed never ending. Oikawa was surprised, though, to realise he was actually enjoying himself. It wasn't quite the same as going to a good party, but it was quite therapeutic.

Well, that was, until they got to the final cow.

"We got her!" A small man with wild orange hair ran into the building, waving his arms wildly in the air. He was followed closely by a more solemn looking individual, with obsidian black hair and sapphire eyes.

"Here she is!" A petite girl with shocking blonde hair led the final cow out onto the plateau; Mischief.

"Nice one, guys!" Daichi applauded. "How did you get her?"

The ginger snickered, "We used Kageyama as live bait."

That would explain the odd wet patches all over the taller boy's black overalls. The ginger leant into Kageyama, grinning up at him. Kageyama tried to keep a scowl on his face, only to fail seconds later and lightly press his hand to the ginger's back. The touch was familiar and brought a light blush to the smaller boy's face.

_Is everyone on this farm dating?_

"We're ready for milking!" The girl called.

"Thanks, Yachi. Who wants to do it?" Everybody remained silent. Clearly, Mischief was infamous when it came to milking.

"I think Oikawa should do it." Noya spoke up.

"What?" Oikawa's mouth dropped open.

"Like an initiation, y'know. You've got to earn your place on this farm."

Oikawa gawped. Nobody was going to come to his rescue. They didn't want to milk Mischief, for some reason, and so he was the easy route out.

"Woah, wait! Oikawa, like _Oikawa Tooru?"_ The ginger exclaimed. Finally, someone with taste.

"That's me!" Oikawa smirked. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes.

"You can't make _the_ Oikawa Tooru milk Mischief! He's like, a modelling king, or something."

Oikawa smiled. Maybe he was going to get out of this, after all. All thanks to an adorably excitable little fan. Fame worked in the strangest ways.

"Hinata, you dumbass, he has to do it," Kageyama spoke up, edging self consciously toward the ginger whilst sending a glare to Oikawa. Jealousy was something Tooru was used to.

"Why?"

"He's the only one who hasn't milked her before. It's only fair."

Hinata sighed resignedly, "Oh yeah. Sorry." He glanced apologetically at Oikawa. Dammit. He didn't like Kageyama.

"Fine, I'll do it! It can't be that difficult."

Oikawa grabbed the closest milk cluster. He walked toward Mischief, cloth in hand, ready to clean her. He reached underneath. Everybody was holding their breath. After cleaning the udder, he took the cluster and brought it close. He attached all four with ease. He pulled away, grinning triumphantly at the others, who all looked shocked.

"See, clearly she's a fan of my work!"

Daichi's voice came next, "Oikawa, you might want to-"

It was too late. Something warm sprayed Oikawa's cheek. Oh God. Oh _God._ This was his worst nightmare. It stunk. Everybody stayed silent, waiting for Oikawa's reaction. He was in a state of shock. It was Iwaizumi who broke the silence with a boisterous laugh.

"Shitty Oikawa!" A look of realisation crossed his face. " _Shittykawa."_

Great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, firstly, I want to say thank you so much for all of the reads, comments, and kudos! Everything you guys do really means a lot to me, so thank you for your support *hugs you* ≧﹏≦  
> I've also learnt that The Killers are one of the best bands to write to. Unless Mr Brightside comes on, and then I get up and have my own mini concert.  
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Follow my writing blog (come and talk to me, it'll be fun)- http://bealikestowrite.tumblr.com


	3. I Know Exactly What I Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daichi and Suga have a dog. Also there is a duel for pancakes.

Chapter 3

"I'm not going back."

The smell was still there. It was like it was clinging to his skin, still lingering and burning his nose even after his fifth shower that evening. He needed more shampoo. And stronger soap. He sat on his bed, towel wrapped around his waist and another in his free hand, towelling his hair dry. His other hand pressed his phone to his ear.

"You have to go back," his manager replied drily.

"But Mattsun, it's dirty and it reeks of cow poop!"

"You're just describing your apartment to me, Oikawa."

Oikawa sighed dramatically, "One," he held his finger up, despite the fact Matsukawa couldn't see him. "That's rude. Two, my apartment is the _epitome_ of cleanliness. Three, it does not reek of cow poop."

"Oh yeah?" Oikawa could practically sense the amused eyebrow raise. "Then why did you have to open the window so desperately?"

"Fresh air."

"You live right by a main road. Fresh air is a distant memory."

Oikawa, content that his hair was dry enough, threw his towel on the floor. He laid back on his bed with a 'fwump'. There were glow in the dark stickers on his ceiling; stars, planets, UFOs, aliens. These were accompanied by his favourite ceiling mobile of the solar system, spinning languidly against the light breeze that seeped in from the open window.

The room was very _'Oikawa-esque'_. It was the side of Oikawa that not many people knew about. A plethora of movie posters decorated the walls, mostly of tacky alien movies. There was the odd poster of _Girls' Generation_ and _EXID_ , with a complementary picture of his family. His bed had a simple white spread, pillows piled neatly at the top. The set of drawers to the right of his bed held all of his favourite collectible action figures, along with some magazines he'd kept with pictures of himself in them. The vanity to the right was scattered with hair brushes, hair products, cute accessories and some makeup. There was a bookshelf pressed up against the far wall. It was stuffed full with sci-fi books, modelling portfolios, mangas and old magazines.

He didn't take people back to his apartment; he needed to maintain his suave reputation. They would always go to a posh hotel, one that laid little chocolates on the pillow. Occasionally they'd have satin sheets, though they were a pain, sticking uncomfortably to his bare skin and doing nothing to keep him warm when he woke up alone the next morning. Sometimes he was glad they'd left; he didn't want anyone seeing him with uncontrollable bedhead and drool staining his cheek. Other times he felt lonely. Years ago, the idea of a one night stand was exhilarating- he couldn't imagine anything better. Now it felt empty. The enjoyment was brief and the sex, although satisfying, lacked the passion he so desperately desired.

"Mattsun, don't make me go back," Oikawa whined.

"Look, Oikawa, you need the money until your modelling really kicks off. Then you can leave and never look back."

"But what if it never kicks off?"

"It will."

"But _Akaashi_ -"

"Akaashi nothing, Tooru. Don't compare yourself to other models, it does nothing for your confidence. Yes, Akaashi has nice hair and a good complexion, but he excels in sombre, moody shoots. You, Oikawa, have a smile that is second to none. You've just got to utilise your strengths, and use them to build yourself a name."

Oikawa smiled lightly, "Oh, Matsukawa, are you _hitting on me?"_

"As if," Matsukawa scoffed. "I just need to keep you confident so I can make money off of you."

"It's good to know your interest in me isn't entirely mercenary." Oikawa teased. "Besides, I know you've only got your heart set on one man."

He heard the squeak of Matsukawa's office chair as he leant back, "And you have _your_ heart set on Mr Hunky Farmer."

Oikawa squealed and sat up quickly, "I don't have my _heart_ set on him, Mattsun! Just my eyes. Constantly." Oikawa ran his hand back through his hair, sighing dreamily as he recalled images of Iwaizumi. He was perfect. "He's just my type, too, y'know, dark hair and pretty eyes. He's got a perfect jawline, it's so defined. And his muscles, Mattsun, his _muscles_."

"Do you need some private time? I know how it can get, thinking of an attractive man, you just need to-"

Oikawa sputtered, "No! No, I'm fine. He doesn't like me anyway."

"What?" Matsukawa gasped dramatically, his voice slightly muffled from a hand placed over his mouth. "Someone doesn't like you? With _your_ personality?"

"You're being mean," Oikawa pointed out dryly before standing up from his bed. He dropped the towel from around his waist and sauntered over to his underwear drawer. "It's just odd. People usually like me straight away. I do my signature pose and flash a few smiles and they're either infatuated with me or in my bed."

Matsukawa hummed thoughtfully, "Sounds like this guy has more on his mind than your appearance."

"Well," Oikawa pulled a pair of boxers on with one hand. "This is new."

"Actually, Oikawa, dating for personality isn't a completely new concept. It's been around for a good few years, I'd say, at least since-"

"You know what I mean," Oikawa sighed.

"Yeah," Matsukawa exhaled deeply. "I do."

"I'm gonna screw this up."

"Probably. You do that a lot. But I've never seen the one and only Oikawa Tooru turn down a challenge."

Oikawa grinned, "I'll just whip out my flawless personality and dazzling smile and he won't be able to resist me!"

"Good luck. Just stick with this farm thing for a little longer, okay? Don't go getting yourself fired."

"You should have more faith in me, Mattsun."

Oikawa hung up the phone and threw it carelessly onto his bed. This was all new to him. He was used to having people fall at his feet with a single smile, used to a flutter of eyelids leading to a night of faux passion. He never had to make an effort. Iwaizumi was different. He wasn't affected by Oikawa's good looks, or if he was, he didn't show it. There was something about that fact that excited him. It made Iwaizumi more interesting, more desirable, more _refreshing._

Oikawa didn't have his heart set on Iwaizumi. Definitely not. He'd only known the man for a day. He just had an appreciation for ruggedly handsome men. Which Iwaizumi happened to be. It wasn't like Oikawa actually _felt_ anything. Iwaizumi was kind of a jerk to him, for the most part. All Oikawa had done was be his extremely charming self and- oh God. Was that it? Maybe his charm was too much. Oikawa had been so stupid, how could he have not realised that his cool and sophisticated demeanour was probably alien to the humble Iwaizumi Hajime? Iwa-chan was only mean to him because he didn't know how else to address him.

Oikawa mentally slapped himself as he padded out to the living room in his bare feet. He was overthinking. Maybe Iwaizumi just didn't like him. Not that it mattered. He didn't care. He ran his finger over the spines of his DVD collection, half-heartedly trying to pick a movie to watch. Sci-fi or rom-com? _Did_ Iwaizumi hate him? Death and destruction or clichéd romance story? Would he care if Iwaizumi hated him? Attractive male lead or attractive female lead? If Iwaizumi _did_ hate him, was there anything he could do?

"Shit," Oikawa breathed, his finger freezing. "Why the hell do I care?"

\------

Oikawa didn't know what he expected when he arrived at Karakomasai Farm early the next morning. It was going to be a sunny day, the sun's rays splintering through the fluffy white swirls that littered the otherwise clear sky. He had donned his oldest clothing, expecting more unfortunate incidences to come his way. He'd be prepared this time, though. He'd be ready to dodge any loose faecal matter.

He walked down to the house, plastering a smile on his face. The house really did need a paint, not that the fading walls could really be seen through the quickly spreading ivy. The front porch could do with a good sweep too. It was covered in dust and dried mud, and what appeared to be ridiculous amounts of animal hair. He was lost in thought about whether Daichi and Suga owned a dog or a cat, when something warm and suspiciously hairy collided with his side.

"Oof!" Oikawa collided with the ground. Well, this was a good start to his day. His side was probably covered with dirt, and his face was being coated with a thick blanket of saliva.

"Hey, Gumball, that's not how you greet someone!"

The mass of fur was pulled away from Oikawa. He breathed a sigh of relief as he was met with the apologetic smile of Sugawara, ash blonde hair catching the sunlight and glowing a stunning platinum. His head was haloed by the sunlight, his pale skin seeming to shine in its near translucence. The beauty mark sat neatly beneath his eye. Oikawa still thought it was cute, the way it rose and fell with every change in Suga's facial expression. Sugawara Koushi was truly beautiful. Daichi was a lucky man.

"Sorry," Suga held his hand out to Oikawa, his other hand occupied in gripping the dog's collar. "Gumball gets excited around new people. He may be old, but this old man has got some serious leg power."

"Gumball?" Oikawa raised a brow. He took Suga's hand, allowing him to pull him up in one swift movement.

Suga giggled, "Yeah, Daichi got to name him when he was a kid."

Oikawa bent down so he was face to face with Gumball. He was an old dog, grey hairs framing his deep brown eyes and his panting mouth. His hair was a chocolate brown, flecked here and there with grey and white. Gumball was a big dog. His head stopped at Suga's waist and his shoulders brushed the tops of Suga's thighs. It was no surprise that the dog was able to knock Oikawa to the floor. His back and shoulders were pure muscle, clearly from hard work on the farm. He was surprised Suga's arm was still attached to his body.

"Hey, boy," Oikawa reached out to scratch behind Gumball's ear. "You don't look like a Gumball."

It was Suga's turn to raise a brow now, "Oh? What does he look like, then?"

"Look at him," Oikawa stood up and gestured wildly at the dog. "Such a big, macho dog needs a big, macho name," Oikawa tapped his chin in thought, trying to think of the perfect name. "Like Striker, or Flame Prince, or," he opened his arms dramatically. " _Tooru_."

Suga snorted, "Tooru? Really?"

Oikawa placed his hands on his hips, "Yeah, it's a great name."

Suga smiled and nodded, before glancing back over his shoulder at the house. It was then that Oikawa noticed the gathering that appeared to be happening within the house. The netting that was draped over the windows obscured the people inside, so that Oikawa could only make out rough silhouettes. Nishinoya's was the easiest to spot, running back and forth carelessly, spiked hair easily definable behind the soft white drapes. Asahi's bun made him the next easiest to spot, followed closely by Hinata's curls and the way Kageyama's silhouette followed him like a bad smell.

"Are those two ever apart?" Oikawa wondered aloud.

Suga turned and smiled sweetly, "Not really. We tried giving them separate tasks once but they just ended up finding each other. It's kind of sweet, don't you think?"

"Not really," Oikawa turned his nose up. "I think it'd get irritating, having someone follow me around like that all the time."

"You wouldn't mind if it was _Iwa-chan_."

Oikawa's words caught in his throat. He felt his face grow warm, an undignified blush flowering up his neck and tinting his cheeks a rosey pink. He chuckled nervously as he scratched the back of his neck. His awkwardness only spurred on further laughter from Sugawara.

"Oh relax," he waved his hand nonchalantly. "I was only teasing. Hajime's a real sweetie. And a hunk."

"You think Iwaizumi's a hunk?" Oikawa blinked at Suga, who only grinned cheekily.

"Don't get me wrong, as handsome as Iwaizumi may be, he's not really my type. I'm a leg kinda guy, and let me tell you," Suga took a step closer to Oikawa, leaning in towards him, eyes twinkling mischievously. " _Sawamura Daichi's calves are fucking gorgeous_."

Sugawara pulled back, the purest, most innocent smile emblazoned on his features. Oikawa was in a state of disbelief. Suga seemed so virtuous, though clearly his angelic appearance was nothing more than a well practiced façade. The soft, smooth nature of his voice contrasted heavily with the roughness of the curse word, as well as with the lewd connotations of the comment. His eyes, which had seemed so warm and friendly before, now contained a glint of something else, something bold and shameless. _Wow,_ Oikawa thought, _Daichi really is a lucky man_.

Suga clapped his hands together in front of his chest. Gumball took this moment to dart across the path and toward the patio, launching himself at the front door with an almighty bang. The door didn't open. Dazed, Gumball took a step back, looking up at the door in sheer puzzlement. Clearly, Gumball was not the brightest of dogs. The dog began to whine, deep brown eyes full of sadness. If this was the biggest stress in a dog's life, Oikawa would happily trade positions. Imagine a world where your biggest enemy is a door, and not some mysterious, enticingly handsome man who steals all of the good modelling jobs that were _clearly_ meant for Tooru, especially that underwear one, because it was common knowledge that Oikawa had the better backside anyway, so he should have been offered the job, but _no_ , because Akaashi Keiji's buttocks are apparently more pert, but that couldn't be true because he got Mattsun and Makki to check and they said-

"Oi, if you two don't hurry up then Kuroo's gonna eat all the pancakes!"

Daichi was stood in the doorway, bent down to grip onto Gumball's collar, stopping him from running inside. Gumball pulled with all his might, whining as he tried to push his way through Daichi's legs and into the house. Suga was the first to move, grabbing Gumball's collar from the other side and pulling him away from the door. The dog's face was a look of disbelief as he was betrayed by his owners. They turned him to face the other way, and Oikawa was met with the full force of the dog's well-practiced puppy dog eyes. Oikawa thought _he_ knew how to use those eyes, but _damn_ , he could take a few lessons from this old dog.

"Don't look into his eyes," Daichi warned. "It's a trap."

Suga rolled his eyes, "Oh come on, he's not that persuasive."

"Suga, sweetheart, you know I have a weakness for big, brown eyes."

Oikawa scrunched his nose up in disgust as Suga giggled airily. They were so sweet he could feel his teeth rotting, and practically sense his dentist crying. He hoped he was never like that in a relationship. It was nice and all, but definitely not for him. Or was it? He didn't really have much experience in the relationship department. All he knew was how to flirt mercilessly, but that hadn't helped him so far. The longest relationship he'd had barely surpassed a week, and even that consisted of nothing more than a few heated nights. He still remembered the text he got from her, exactly eight days after they'd started 'dating', something about them not being right for each other, and their star signs being incompatible. Apparently a Cancer and a Libra would clash too much. They never even went on a date.

Oikawa was distracted from his thoughts by a low whine. Gumball was nosing his leg, looking up at him with the saddest expression he could muster. This dog was good. He lifted his paw lightly and tapped clumsily at Oikawa's leg.

"Sawamura, look how sad you've made him!" Oikawa found himself overcome by the dog's insistent begging.

Daichi sighed, running his hand down his face, "If he comes in, he'll eat more pancakes than Kuroo."

"He can have my share, I've already eaten."

In almost eerie unison, Daichi and Suga's eyes grew wide. There was a scrape of chairs from further inside the house and a clattering of cutlery. Suga winced as a large crash echoed down the hallway, probably a chair tipping over. A chorus of raised voices reverberated off of the walls. It was difficult to make out what was being said, until the chorus was drowned out by one loud, dominating voice.

"Fight to the death!"

Daichi sprang to life, turning and sprinting inside the house. Suga ushered Oikawa in, a look of amusement on his face, muttering something about this being the second time in a week.

There were more shoes gathered around the door now, some organised neatly and others discarded carelessly. He could easily spot Shrimpy's shoes, bright green fabric covered with questionable blue and yellow stars. They sat messily next to Cow Bait's simple black trainers. The only other easily decipherable ones were the humongous pair of brown walking boots, which must have been bigger than Oikawa's head, that presumably belonged to Asahi.

Suga led Oikawa down the hall to a door at the far left, from which all the noise seemed to be emanating. The door opened onto a generously sized kitchen. It was simplistic, yet extremely homely. The walls were painted a delicate cream colour to compliment the white cupboards and cabinets that lined the room. The handles were embellished with tiny pink roses to match the pink flowers lining the netted curtains and the fancy looking tablecloth. The tablecloth was draped over a large oak table that acted as the centrepiece of the room, large enough to fit at least eight people around. There was an ancient looking gas oven on the far wall, with a tiny hob on top holding a dainty little floral kettle. Saucepans hung on the wall, along with spatulas and other odd kitchen utensils. This room was also decorated with pictures of Daichi and Suga, but the walls also bore picturesque views of the countryside, and a few shots of Gumball, with some dogs Oikawa was yet to meet.

Oikawa didn't have long to admire the kitchen though, as his attention was drawn to the rabble in the middle of the kitchen.

"Dammit, Kuroo, you're a _grown man._ " Daichi's face was that of a disappointed father, frowning up at a man with the most unfortunate bedhead Tooru had ever seen. He was brandishing a spatula in the air, trying to get around Daichi to engage in a duel to the death with Noya, who was waving an equally dangerous looking wooden spoon whilst trying to escape Asahi's grip.

"That's debatable." A quiet, monotonous voice came from the table. A young man with a desperate need for some more hair dye didn't even tear his eyes away from his phone.

The spatula in Kuroo's hand fell to the floor as he placed his hand on his chest, right over his heart, "Betrayed by my one and only."

"He's right, though," Daichi continued, hands on his hips. "How can you call yourself a mature, responsible adult?"

"I don't."

"You're twenty-three years old, maybe you should start."

"Jeez, _dad_ , lighten up. I only wanted newbie's pancakes."

Daichi sighed, "What do you want more pancakes for? You already had half of Kenma's share."

"I'm a growing boy."

Noya squawked in protest. He tore himself away from Asahi, waving his wooden spoon around recklessly, "A growing boy? If you grow any more, birds will start nesting in your hair! _I'm_ a growing boy! _I_ need the pancakes."

"I challenge you, Nishinoya Yuu," Kuroo bent and picked the spatula up in one clean sweep. "To a duel to the-"

" _No duelling in my kitchen._ "

Noya pouted and dropped his arm to his side. Kuroo huffed and folded his arms over his chest. Daichi took the spatula and the wooden spoon, turning to put them in their rightful places.

"How are we meant to decide who eats newbie's pancakes?" Kuroo frowned, running his hand back through his hair. Oikawa was surprised his hand didn't get stuck.

"I have a name, y'know." Oikawa stated haughtily.

"And we'll use it once you've earned your place here."

Noya took a step forward, "He milked Michief."

Kuroo's eyes were like saucers. He took a moment to compose himself before he turned to look Oikawa over.

"Shit, sorry dude, didn't realise you were a _legend_."

"Well, it's not everyday you meet someone devoid of flaws, such as myself."

"You got covered in cow crap," Kageyama piped up from the table. He was prodding away at a pancake on a delicate floral plate, his blue eyes narrowing at Oikawa.

"And you were covered in cow spit,"

"Cow crap is definitely worse than cow spit."

"Look, Cow Bait, if you-"

Kuroo cleared his throat, eyebrow arched. Hinata had moved his attention away from hair dye's phone to lightly pat Kageyama's arm. The darker haired boy handed his fork over to the ginger, who proceeded to munch away contentedly at the remaining pancake.

"Yeah, if we could avoid another duel in this kitchen, that would be great." Daichi had moved over to turn the hob on. The kettle hummed in the heat, steam rising and swirling into intricate little pictures.

Noya dragged Asahi over to the table. They grabbed seats opposite the odd duo. Noya pinched a piece of pancake from the plate, earning him a disgruntled look from Kageyama and a forlorn frown from Asahi. Suga took a seat at the far end of the table, sitting him between Kageyama and Noya.

"Anyway, the name's Kuroo Tetsurou. Call me Kuroo. Or Hot Stuff. Either works." Oikawa snorted as he shook Kuroo's hand.

"Kuro, stop." The quiet voice came again, but still the young man didn't tear his eyes from the screen.

"Wha- why?"

"It's old. And not funny."

Kuroo feigned hurt, "Newbie found it funny."

"He hasn't heard it before. I've heard it at least a hundred times."

Kuroo pouted at the back of the blond's head. The look was fruitless, as his eyes still remained glued to the phone screen. His fingers were moving rapidly over the screen.

"Yo, Kenma, are you going to introduce yourself?"

Kenma's reply came without a pause, "Combo."

Oikawa frowned. Kuroo just nodded knowingly. Music spilled from Kenma's phone, to which Hinata hummed lightly through bites of pancake.

"That little cutie over there is Kenma. Don't disrupt his combos. You'll never forget it," Kuroo shuddered, seemingly recalling something unpleasant.

Oikawa smiled, "Oikawa Tooru. Model."

Kuroo clapped Tooru on the back. Air rushed from his lips as he was winded by the force. If the dark haired man notices, he didn't pass comment.

"Well, here you're not a model, you're a farmer. Chill out. Let loose. No paparazzi here, so roll in all the mud you want."

Oikawa turned his nose up, "I'm okay, thanks."

"Oh wait," Kuroo smirked. "You probably don't want to roll in mud, do you? You wouldn't be able to impress _Iwa-chan_ like that."

A merciless blush heated Oikawa's neck, dusting his cheeks a wholly undignified pink. Oikawa was an incessant flirt, sure, but he hated being called out on it. Especially when it wasn't working.

Kuroo wandered over to the table. He sat down next to Asahi, relaxing back in his chair, feet sitting either side of Kenma's under the table. He patted the spare seat at the end of the table, dark eyes flicking between Oikawa and the empty chair. Oikawa gingerly edged toward the chair. The seat was padded with a quaint little pink cushion, decorated with ornate little daisies that collated in the centre to form a bigger daisy. He sat himself down, feeling slightly self conscious as everybody- well, except for Kenma- stared at him.

He was used to being stared at, but this wasn't for the perfect photo or best angle, he was being scrutinised by every person in the room. They were trying to figure him out. He didn't like that. He built his faux arrogant persona for a reason, after all. He didn't want people to learn too much about him. That was a weakness, in something as competitive as modelling. If anybody found out your weaknesses, then that was it. You were out.

Daichi poured himself a drink from the kettle, after asking if anybody else wanted anything. After everybody declined his offer, he brewed himself a coffee and made his way over to the table to stand behind Suga. He placed his coffee in front of Suga, before wrapping his arms around his boyfriend's shoulders and nestling his chin in his ash blond hair. Suga rested his head back against Daichi's chest.

"So," Kuroo leant forwards in his seat, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. "What's the dealio?"

"The dealio?" Oikawa cocked his head to the side.

"Yeah. The dealio. The goss. The deets. The-"

"He wants to know if you're going to bang Iwaizumi or not," Noya snickered.

Asahi's jaw practically hit the table. He turned to look at his boyfriend with the most distraught expression. Suga brought his head away from Daichi's chest to give Noya a stern look. The wild haired boy didn't even bat an eyelid, instead grinning victoriously at the commotion he'd caused.

Oikawa has never blushed so much in his life. He took a deep breath to try and compose himself. _In through the nose, out through the mouth._

"I mean that wasn't exactly what I was asking, but since we're on the topic-"

"Kuro," Kenma scolded half heartedly.

Kuroo held his hands up defensively, "Alright, not that question," he ran his hand back through his hair in thought, his other hand reaching absently over the table to trace over the back of Kenma's hand. "Do you like him?"

Oikawa blinked. He liked looking at him. Did that count? He didn't know much about Iwaizumi yet, not enough to say he liked him. But then, how much was enough? He didn't know much about Nicki Minaj, yet he knew he liked her. Was that enough? He liked Iwaizumi's smile, and his laugh. He liked the way he smiled at Oikawa when he did something right, and he liked the way his sense of humour, although usually directed against Oikawa, was just the right mix of dry and sarcastic.

"I guess? I've only know him for a day, I'm not planning on rushing-"

"You guess? That's a pretty noncommittal answer." It was Suga this time, gnawing on his lip as he aided Kuroo's interrogation.

"I mean he's good looking, but I don't know him all that well."

Oikawa didn't know what it was about Iwaizumi that made him want to get to know him. Usually, he'd be more than happy to sleep with someone he knew next to nothing about. Sometimes he'd even forget their name. But there was something about Iwaizumi Hajime. It felt wrong to jump into anything with him. He wanted more, _so much more._ It was the first time where Oikawa had wanted to know more. It felt good. It was refreshing.

"Well get to know him. You're essentially his student now, his apprentice, so you're going to be spending _lots_ of time with him." Suga clasped his hands in front of him."

"But he doesn't like me. I'll just feel stupid trying to get to know him if he's giving me one worded answers."

Kuroo waved his hands dismissively, "Don't worry about that. Just drop this," Kuroo raised the pitch of his voice comically. " _Oikawa Tooru, gorgeous model, too good for you_ bull. Just be yourself. You're a pretty decent guy, from what I can tell. I could put in a good word for you."

"Don't do that," Kenma glanced up from his phone this time.

"Why not?" Kuroo frowned. "I'm practically the god of love."

"You said that about Bokuto."

"So? I got him together with a _model_. That's freaking awesome, don't deny it. Wait, that's totally my thing," Kuroo opened his arms dramatically. "Kuroo Tetsurou, model matchmaker. I can see it now; my name in lights, people screaming my name, models spilling in my doors for me to find them a suitable lover."

Kenma put his phone down on the table, his stunning golden eyes blinking up at Kuroo, who was now running his fingers back and forth across Kenma's empty palm.

"No, Bokuto got himself with a model. Your 'good word' was that Bokuto can shoot peas out of his nose and into a cup on the other side of the room."

"Well he _can._ " Kuroo folded his arms over his chest and leant back further in his chair, as if trying to prove a point. He still ran his foot up and down Kenma's calf, though.

"Woah, that's awesome!" Hinata exclaimed, standing up from his seat in excitement. Kageyama tugged on his sleeve to try and get him to sit down. The ginger reluctantly obeyed.

"See, Hinata knows where it's at."

"That's disgusting," Oikawa's lip curled. "How do you even have a boyfriend?"

Kuroo smirked, "Sheer luck and years of pining."

"Did anyone put in a good word for you?"

"I put in a good word for myself."

"I dread to think what you said."

It was Kenma's turn to speak, "He told me that his puns are unbeatable."

Oikawa snorted, turning to Kuroo with a look of disbelief. Kuroo simply shrugged.

"Has he lived up to that?" Daichi asked.

Kenma smiled and nodded shyly as he picked his phone up again, resuming the game he'd been so engrossed in before.

"Hey, when did this get about me? This was about you and Iwaizumi!" Kuroo pointed an accusing finger at the brunet.

"Well, Mr Model Matchmaker, why don't you tell me the way to Iwaizumi's heart."

Kuroo paused. Everybody was staring at him, waiting for something amazing. He took a deep breath before speaking.

"Well, by my calculations, he hasn't gotten any in over ten months, so-"

"Wait," Oikawa screwed up his face in confusion. "You mean to tell me that Iwaizumi Hajime, possibly one of the most gorgeous men I have _ever_ laid my eyes on, hasn't done anything in over ten months?"

Kuroo blinked, "Yeah, that's what I was saying."

"I don't even want to know how you worked that out," Daichi ran his hand over his face. Suga giggled.

"Anyway, ten months is a long time, so he'd probably love-"

Oikawa stood up from his chair, " _I am not offering anyone sex_."

Everyone fell silent. They were staring behind Oikawa, at something just over his shoulder. Oikawa turned slowly, to be met with the gorgeous brown eyes splintered with green veins. Iwaizumi looked handsome, as he had before.

His hair was ever so slightly fluffy, seemingly having just been towel dried. His skin looked smooth, tanned from work on the field. His collar bones, perfectly shaped and chiselled, protruded from his loose cut shirt. The shirt fitted him nicely, elegantly muscles arms folded across his chest. He had a checked shirt tied around his waist.

"Am I interrupting something?" Iwaizumi frowned, brows furrowing and forming a strangely attractive dip between them.

"Hi," Oikawa said lamely. He ignored Kuroo's snickers. He silently thanked Kenma as he kicked his boyfriend in the shins.

"Hello?" It was more of a question, Hajime's lips turning down in a confused frown.

"You look nice."

"Thanks."

Wow, this was awkward. Oikawa never froze up like this. It didn't help that Kuroo was chortling behind his hand and Kageyama was watching with a look of sadistic amusement on his face.

Iwaizumi turned his attention to Daichi, "Are we fixing the fences for the new field today?"

Daichi peeled himself away from Suga as he nodded. Daichi marched over to Iwaizumi and requested for everyone, except Suga, Noya and Asahi, to follow him. Oikawa remained frozen to the spot. Never had he failed so badly at flirting. There was something about Iwaizumi.

Kuroo patted him on the back as he walked past, "Better luck next time, dude."

Oikawa was losing his touch. It was all Iwaizumi's fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So I'm going to be away for the next two weeks, so updates may be a bit slower. I'll definitely try to write as much as I can, and update if I can ^_^ there should be Wi-Fi where I'm going, though, so hopefully I'll be able to keep up to date and be able to respond to messages and stuff.
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for all of the amazing comments and kudos, it honestly means so much to me!! Thanks for being awesome ♥♥
> 
> Come talk to me (about anything, seriously, I'll talk about anything. Especially cute ships): http://bealikestowrite.tumblr.com


	4. I'll Always Be Dreaming Of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo and Bokuto dance. Oikawa is ticklish.

Chapter 4

If you asked Oikawa Tooru to list his favourite pastimes, then fixing a fence whilst practically knee deep in a jungle of weeds and grass under the sweltering heat of the sun probably wasn't one of them. It didn't help that Kuroo was trying to make things as difficult as possible for him. It was even worse now that Kenma wasn't there to scold him, having been sent off to help Hinata and Kageyama weed out the field just over the hill.

Oikawa was currently doing his best to hold a wooden fence post upright, whilst Kuroo was knelt beside him, wrapping wire around the post, his face uncomfortably close to Oikawa's crotch. This literally couldn't be any worse. Oh wait, yes it could be, because Iwaizumi was stood oh so close to him, practically back to back, and Kuroo was doing his utmost to litter the quiet countryside with inappropriate innuendos.

This was not what he'd planned for the day. He'd planned to be hand in hand with Iwazumi, after they'd declared their undying love for one another, riding on horseback through a romantically flower blanketed field into the glorious sunset. That, by the looks of things, wasn't going to happen. Oikawa was optimistic, though. He'd make it happen.

"We're like a boyband. Four attractive young men, hanging out, being generally awesome," Kuroo tore Oikawa from his reverie. "I'd be the devilishly handsome one, though."

Oikawa snorted, "Really? With that hair? You'd be the eccentric one. _I'd_ be the ridiculously gorgeous one."

Kuroo rested his hands on his hips. It would have been rather intimidating, what with his piercing eyes, well built body, and couple of centimetres of height over Oikawa. It was rendered anything but intimidating, however, by the way he was trying his best to glance up at his hair, almost falling backwards as he practically rolled his eyes into the back of his head, he was trying so hard to look. Oikawa snickered. Kuroo glowered at Oikawa, though it had a playful hint to it.

"What's wrong with my hair? Kenma likes it." The statement wasn't one to be argued with. Kuroo adored Kenma, as Oikawa could tell by the lovesick glances Kuroo gave him when he thought nobody was looking, and the way he always went in for soft touches, almost desperate for reassurance that Kenma was really there, that Kenma was _real_. Oikawa felt that if he wanted to end his time on the farm alive, he'd be best to keep on Kuroo's good side. Contradicting Kenma would not be the way to do that.

"Actually, I meant to ask you about that," Oikawa looked down at Kuroo, who was now busy wrapping wire around their previously erected fence post.

"Oh?"

Oikawa folded his arms over his chest, "How exactly did you trick Kenma into dating you?"

"How do you know that Kenma didn't trick me into dating him?"

"Because Kenma is _way_ too good for you."

A light smile played along Kuroo's lips, "I'm very aware of that, city boy. He's way too good for me. But I could never live without him."

Oikawa looked down at Kuroo. He was still wrapping wire around the post, but he looked less intense now. A look of unadulterated fondness caressed his features. It toyed with his lips, causing them to quirk up in a poorly hidden smile. His cheeks were lightly flushed, a look Oikawa could never have imagined on the messy haired man's face. His dark eyes were focused on the wire, but they weren't entirely there; they were distracted.

"You're good together, though. From what I've seen, I mean."

Kuroo finished wrapping the wire and stood up, "Thanks, man. That really means a lot."

Oikawa shrugged. It was true. Kuroo and Kenma, although essentially the complete antithesis of one another, worked together. They may be opposite sides of a coin, but they worked together to make one perfect coin. As clichéd as that sounded, it was the best description for them. Kuroo was loud and lively, whilst Kenma was quiet and calm. They counteracted one another. Kenma calmed Kuroo, essentially keeping him under control. Kuroo brought Kenma out of his shell, and although not forcing him to do anything he didn't want to do, still managed to make Kenma go further than he would for anyone else. They loved one another dearly. Oikawa couldn't help but feel a sharp pang of jealousy.

"Okay," Kuroo grabbed the roll of wire, unwinding it as he walked backward toward Daichi and Iwaizumi, who were waiting to continue threading the wire around the next post. "So you're the devilishly handsome one, the ladykiller. The mankiller, if you will-"

"Ah, I'd rather be an everyonekiller," Oikawa smiled shyly. Had he been paying attention, he would have noticed Iwaizumi throw him a glance. Oikawa looked okay when he wasn't wearing an obscenely obnoxious grin.

Kuroo's eyes widened as realisation hit him. His dark eyebrows receded into the depths of his tousled, obsidian hair, his thin lips pulling back over his straightened white teeth to form a perfect 'o' shape.

"Damn, dude, sorry, I just assumed-"

Oikawa shook his head quickly, smiling at Kuroo, who was hurriedly trying to apologise, "It's fine, honestly. Happens all the time."

"Well it shouldn't happen all the time. There are more than two sexualities. I'm really sorry, man."

"Kuroo, if you don't stop apologising, I'll hit you with this mallet," Oikawa swung the mallet playfully, resulting in Kuroo grinning as he pretended to fall to the floor, hand clutched to his head as he feigned pain. "Anyway, so you're the eccentric one and I'm the melt-your-ice cream-hot one. What about Daichi and Iwa-chan?"

Kuroo brought his finger to his lips in thought. A light wind danced over the dry blanket of grass, whistling through the individual blades. The swaying grass traced back and forth across Oikawa's ankle, a silent dance reserved only for the slender grass and surrounding foliage. The beauty of Karakomasai Farm was certainly making itself better known to Oikawa. The rolling emerald fields surrounded them for miles, broken only by a river of country roads or an intriguingly coloured field; some brown with mud, some yellow like stars, growing corn or wheat, some green dotted with the whites, blacks and browns of livestock. There was one field, if you squinted hard enough, that was brown laced with perfect rows of green, sequinned with tiny red specks. Daichi told him it was a very successful strawberry farm. Apparently they grew the best strawberries for miles around, and often delivered some to Suga in return for some fresh milk. Suga would make this delicious strawberry shortcake, one to keep and one to give to the strawberry farm, who would return an astounding cake of some sort using Karakomasai's milk.

"Daichi can be the mature one. You know, the one that the mums like; the sort of responsible member of the group." Kuroo clapped his hands together, proud of himself for finding Daichi the perfect role. Daichi looked like he was going to protest, but after a moment's thought, decided against it.

"And Iwa-chan? Who would he be?" Oikawa glanced over at Iwaizumi.

Kuroo beamed, "The attractively mysterious one. He looks like a bad boy, but has a heart of gold."

Iwaizumi frowned at Kuroo, "I look like a bad boy?"

"Yo, Iwaziumi, look at those _guns_ like, damn son, I wouldn't wanna get on the wrong side of you."

Oikawa found his eyes drifting down to said 'guns'. Kuroo was right; Oikawa probably wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of Iwaizumi. There was a side he wouldn't mind being on, though.  Iwaizumi's skin, lightly tanned, glistened with sweat as he worked on the fence post. It was a strangely enticing performance. With each new wrap of wire around the post, Iwaizumi's muscles flexed in a bizarrely entrancing display. Oikawa wondered what it would feel like to traverse the tightly wound muscles with his fingers, and imagined them loosening under his tender touch. He'd be so gentle.

"If I'm the bad boy, do I need to get any tattoos?"

Oikawa's answer slipped from his lips before he could stop it, "Yes, definitely." As the words flew from his mouth, his dignity went with it. He had a thing for men with tattoos. Tasteful tattoos, that is. He'd once had a thing with a guy who had a massive tattoo of a giraffe playing a guitar on his back. That was interesting.

Iwaizumi didn't seem to notice Oikawa's blatant embarrassment, though, as he sent the taller man an amused smile, "Oh? I suppose I could do with an excuse for another one."

Everybody stopped. Another one? As in, _Iwaizumi Hajime already had a tattoo?_ Oikawa thought he might faint. This man was the epitome of perfection. He was the living example of perfect. He was the dictionary definition, the textbook description, _the living, breathing proof that perfection does roam the Earth._

Everybody had turned to gawp at Iwaizumi. Even Daichi looked shocked, mallet lying limply in his hand, staring up at Iwaizumi like a goldfish looking for food. Kuroo's eyes doubled in size, and his mouth was open so wide that it was surprising his jaw didn't just snap off. Oikawa was struggling to breathe. This man was amazing. It was Iwaizumi's turn to look shocked as he realised the mistake he'd made.

"You've already got a tattoo?" Oikawa asked, gasping for air. Iwaizumi Hajime was going to be the end of him.

Iwaizumi turned away, scuffing the front of his foot in the grass as he tried to return to his job, "It's not particularly interesting."

"I beg to differ."

"It's not, seriously."

"Iwa-chan, you've got a tattoo that nobody knew about. That, in my own personal opinion, which is highly regarded by most people, is _particularly interesting_."

Iwaizumi spun to face Oikawa, scowling at him. His lips curved down into a frown and his eyes glinted with annoyance. Clearly, he did not want to show this tattoo. Oikawa flinched slightly.

"The tattoo is nothing, Crappykawa. Don't pry into my life. You're not staying here long, anyway, right? Drop it before I send you to clean up Mischief's field."

Mischief had her own field. There were many reasons for this. One, Mischief tended to be very territorial, claiming a large part of the field for herself and leaving the rest of the herd crammed into a small corner. Two, she ate a lot of grass. Emphasis on 'a lot'. She ate more grass than Kuroo ate pancakes, which was certainly saying something. Three, she created a lot of waste. That was something Daichi didn't want the other cows to have to deal with. Why did the farm keep Mischief? Suga liked her. He said she had charisma. And so, Daichi's mind was made for him. Mischief stayed as Karakomasai's mascot, of sorts. It seemed apt that the only person she revered with some sort of respect was Sugawara himself. He'd never been subjected to unexpected faecal showers.

"Woah, dude, is it on your- y'know." Kuroo cocked his head down toward Iwaizumi's trousers. Iwaizumi glanced down, before sending Kuroo the most ferocious look Oikawa had ever seen. Despite saying he wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of Iwaizumi, Kuroo seemed to be paving himself a path there with ease.

"Kuroo, I swear to God-"

"Oh my God, is it like, the name of an ex or something? Or is it one of those that went really wrong? I once saw this guy, right, who wanted a tattoo of his cat, but the tattoo artist really messed up its nose, so now it kinda looks like a guinea pig. There was this other guy who wanted a tattoo of his girlfriend, but the tattoo artist looked at the wrong person in the photo, so now he has a picture of his girlfriend's best friend on his arm, which is a bit awkward-"

Iwaizumi snarled and turned to glare at Kuroo, who shrunk back ever so slightly. Daichi sat quietly, still working on the fence, ready to pounce if things got too out of hand.

"If I show you two the damn tattoo, will you shut up and work?"

Kuroo and Oikawa glanced at one another, not needing long to discuss their answer. They both nodded vigorously at Iwaizumi. The dark haired man sighed and rolled his eyes, before grabbing the hem of his shirt. Okay, if Oikawa wasn't struggling to breathe before, then he definitely was now.

The shirt was lifted higher, and higher, and _higher_. With every new centimetre of supple skin, Oikawa's heart doubled in speed. Had Oikawa mentioned that Iwaizumi was perfect? Because he was. Oh, very much so. The shirt stopped rising just above Iwaizumi's belly button, but oh God, this display of even a few centimetres of skin was almost too much for Oikawa. His skin looked so soft, undulating lightly over a well shaped stomach and waist. His hip bones jutted out from the waistline of his trousers, sharp and jagged, extremely tempting. Coarse hairs lined a path from beneath his belly button into the depths of his trousers. Oikawa, once more, wondered what Iwaizumi's skin would feel like under his fingers, imagined-

"Oh, sick! You got a heart? Is that for anyone special?" Kuroo exclaimed. Oh right, yeah, they were looking at the tattoo, weren't they? The tattoo, a delicate little thing, a dainty outline of a heart sitting just on the inside of Iwaizumi's right hip bone, was no bigger than an inch tall.

Iwaizumi flushed, "It's kind of embarrassing."

_Please don't be for anybody, please don't be for anybody, please for the love of all things good and holy, don't be for anybody._

" _Is it_ for somebody?" Oikawa blurted. Wow, he needed to work on his filter. He was really losing his dignity today- or, what he had left of it since Mischief's little gift.

Iwaizumi frowned at him. He could also feel Kuroo smirking at him, but chose to ignore that. Oikawa felt his stomach churn a little at Iwaizumi's curious gaze, but decided to pin that down to a funny egg he'd had the other day. He should've known not to trust Mattsun's cooking.

"No," Oikawa had never felt so relieved to hear that word. Iwaizumi continued whilst lowering his shirt. Oikawa made sure to imprint the image on his brain. "It was for a bet."

"Did you lose?" Daichi asked.

"No, it's an ongoing thing."

Oikawa screwed up his face in confusion, "Wait, what? An ongoing bet? Why would you get a tattoo for an ongoing bet?"

"Okay, so I went drinking with a couple of friends, and we got onto the topic of finding our significant other. One friend, Kindaichi, set out a challenge for us. We all had to get a heart tattoo, and when we found our significant other, we'd get them to get a matching heart tattoo. Winner gets free drinks for a whole year."

Oikawa smiled slyly, "I could always help you get those free drinks, you know. I really wouldn't mind having a matching tattoo with you, Iwa-chan."

"I think I'd rather pay for my own drinks, thanks."

"Wow, Iwa-chan, you'd turn down someone as handsome as myself _and_ the perfect opportunity to get free drinks for a year?"

"Yeah," Kuroo agreed. "You need to sort out your priorities, man. Look at this gorgeous specimen of human here," Kuroo gestured at Oikawa with open palms, showcasing him like some sort of special offer or star prize. "He's pretty fabulous, just look at those long legs. And that hair- oh, how _lustrous_. Imagine running your fingers through that. And _wow_ look at that smile. You'll have to wear sunglasses around this guy. And that button up, wouldn't you just love to-" Kuroo gasped and rummaged in his pocket for something. "Wait I have the perfect thing for this."

From his pocket emerged a battered old phone. The screen was cracked and the edges were scuffed from where it had been dropped multiple times. He had a tiny phone charm dangling from the top corner; it was a delicate red string, bearing two charms at the end, a black cat with a mischievous smirk and a tabby cat with stunning golden eyes. His phone case was faded, most of the picture having already peeled off.

Kuroo flicked through his phone for a minute. The countryside was ominously quiet with the absence of Kuroo's booming voice, the only sound that of the wind rustling the grass. That silence was soon broken, however, by music blaring from Kuroo's phone. Oikawa had heard the song before, though couldn't recall the artist or song name. It was certainly a suggestive song.

Daichi snorted. Kuroo threw his hands up in the air and began to waggle his hips questionably. Oikawa's mouth dropped open. Kuroo Tetsurou was impossible. Iwaizumi folded his arms over his chest and leant back against the fence post, eyebrows raised and an amused smile decorating his features. He looked stunning, as per usual, and Oikawa found himself somewhat distracted from Kuroo's awful dancing.

Kuroo dragged Daichi up now, forcing him to dance. Daichi just placed his hands on his hips and tapped his foot, eyebrow arched at Kuroo's antics. Kuroo ignored him and continued to dance, now waving his hands about in an uncoordinated manner. Iwaizumi remained where he stood, watching the scene as though it were something that occurred daily. Knowing Kuroo, it probably was. Oikawa wondered if Kuroo ever managed to get Kenma to dance.

Oikawa wandered over to Iwaizumi and stood at his side. Iwaizumi spared him a glance, smiling ever so slightly. Oikawa was right; Iwaizumi did look good with a smile. It was slight, sure, but it was just enough to make his lips peel back over his teeth slightly. This close, Oikawa could notice things he never had before. There was a slight chip in Iwaizumi's front tooth, and a pale scar running from just beneath his bottom lip to his chin. Was that a light spattering of freckles over his nose? Oikawa couldn't be sure, he'd have to get closer-

"What are you doing?" Iwaizumi's voice startled Oikawa. He was closer than Oikawa originally thought. Absently, the taller man had been leaning in closer, trying to examine and memorise every single feature of Hajime's face.

Iwaizumi was so close that Oikawa could literally feel the heat rolling off of him. His breath fanned Oikawa's face, gracing his cheeks and dancing into the depths of his hair. Oikawa's heart was practically in his mouth at the close proximity, his stomach knotting uncomfortably. A shiver ran the length of Oikawa's spine as an especially hot breath ghosted over Oikawa's cheeks.

"Looking at you," Oikawa whispered simply.

"Why?" A light flush painted Iwaizumi's features. This made Oikawa's heart beat even faster, if possible. He was surprised it didn't burst from his chest. The baby pink that caressed Iwaizumi's soft cheeks gave Oikawa confidence; maybe his little crush wasn't as one sided as he'd originally thought. Of course, that was only an assumption, and an extremely hopeful one at that.

"You're a very handsome man, Iwa-chan, why wouldn't I?"

Iwaizumi turned his gaze from Oikawa, his ears tinted red. Oikawa couldn't help but realise just how nice his side profile was. Somehow, he managed to get the perfect balance of stubble, trailing from the edge of his hair and around his jawline. His eyelashes, long and dark, cast jagged shadows along his cheekbones. They stretched over his eyes, so intricate in their intermingling of oak brown and leaf green. His dark hair was tousled from the wind. It sat messily around his head, yet in its unruliness maintained an air of handsomeness.

"Look, Oikawa, I don't know what your game is, but I'm not okay with being played with."

Oikawa blinked, "I wouldn't-"

Iwaizumi turned to him, his gaze serious. His eyes were harsher than usual, the warm browns drowned out and overcome by the cooler greens, sharp and meaningful. The model gulped.

"I'm not saying you would. Just don't. I've been played with before. I'm not doing it again."

"Iwa-"

"Stop trying so hard. If things happen, they happen. You're not staying here long anyway, right? So there probably wouldn't even be much point. I'd be here and you'd be off in Tokyo or some other big city somewhere, posing for a massive fashion line," Iwaizumi ran his hand back through his hair, sighing heavily. "I've been left behind before. If you're going to do the same, and just pick me up as and when you need me, then don't bother. I'm not a toy you can use when you feel like it."

Oikawa was gobsmacked. He would never play Iwaizumi. But would he leave? If a better offer came up, if he was offered a front page spread in an elite magazine, or a spot on the runway in Tokyo, maybe see himself plastered on walls or lit up on billboards, would he leave? He'd have to leave. He'd gone to so many shrines, asking and hoping for something to come up. Every single year, he asked for the same thing. He wanted to be known and loved. There was no way he'd be able to turn that down. He'd worked so hard, literally fallen asleep whilst studying the latest fashion designs and makeup techniques. He'd memorised the different trends and styles set in runways by famous Japanese designers; Kaito Wakahisa, Yuna Ayase, Hiyori Amane.

He'd worked so hard for this. He wouldn't give it up. But they could work around it, couldn't they? Long distance relationships could work. Besides, Oikawa would have enough money to support them both, Iwaizumi wouldn't have to work at the farm anymore, he could come with Oikawa, to Tokyo, to New York, to London, to Milan- why was he even thinking this far ahead? He was really ahead of himself, just assuming that Iwaizumi would even let a relationship happen. It was wishful thinking.

"Alright," Oikawa cast Iwaizumi a gentle glance. "I'll just let what happens happen. I won't force anything."

"Alright. Good."

Iwaizumi pushed himself off of the post. He walked past Daichi and Kuroo, who were now arguing over which of them had the bigger arms. They stopped when they saw Iwaizumi walking back across the field. The hazel eyed man turned back only long enough to inform them that they'd finished the fence, and should head back to the house because it was way past lunchtime and Suga would be expecting them.

Daichi followed after him. As soon as Iwaizumi was out of earshot, Kuroo called out to Tooru, "So you're not getting any?"

"No," Oikawa rolled his eyes. "I'm not. And you need to stop trying to force me on him. The poor guy can't breathe."

"Look, I'm a professional at setting up average guys with models. It's what I do."

"You've done it _once_ ," Oikawa protested.

" _It's what I do_."

"No, you need to stop. Didn't Kenma tell you to stop interfering, before he went off with Cow Bait-kun and Chibi-chan?"

Kuroo gnawed on his lips, "Maybe... But he won't know if I interfere a little-"

"I'll tell him."

Kuroo gasped. Oikawa smirked, crossing his arms over his chest victoriously. It appeared he had just found out how to tame Kuroo Tetsurou.

"No, please don't tell Kenma!"

"Well, stop interfering then!"

Kuroo pouted, "I want to help."

"And you can help by behaving. Stop forcing me on Iwa-chan. And stop with the puns and innuendos."

"Fine. But you didn't mind it when I practically advertised you earlier."

"I've changed," Oikawa snapped.

"In the space of five minutes? Wow, I can see the change in you already."

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Kuroo."

Kuroo grinned, "And yet it's oh so effective."

                              ----

The four of them arrived back at the house a quarter of an hour later. There was a new car in the dirt car park, pulled in next to Kuroo and Kenma's black and red Range Rover. It was certainly a unique car, painted brown and decorated with what appeared to be feather patterns. The dashboard was decorated with a wide selection of owl figurines, some hanging from the rearview mirror. Feather printed seat covers also decorated the car. The most impressive part about the car, however, was without a doubt the headlights that had been made to look like owl's eyes.

"The Owlmobile?" Kuroo dashed into the house, leaving Oikawa dumbfounded. "Bokuto, my one and bro-nly! I'm coming!"

Oikawa turned to Iwaizumi for an explanation. He just shrugged, "They're both loud. They get on. You'll understand when you meet him."

And he did. Bokuto Koutarou was as loud and excitable as Kuroo, if not, even more so. He had an especially individual look, with his white hair streaked with black seeming to defy all the laws of gravity. He was tall and well built. There seemed to be a permanent smile plastered on his face, his eyes constantly crinkled at the sides. Tooru wondered how his cheeks didn't hurt.

"I understand," Oikawa muttered to Iwaizumi, who was sat next to him in the living room. Iwaizumi's arm was pressed against his, the warmth sending volts of electricity coursing through his veins. It was impossible to ignore, especially as The shorter man's thigh was also leant against his, warm and firm.

"You get used to them."

"Oh, I don't doubt that. I feel sorry for poor Kenma. They're so _loud_."

Iwaizumi scoffed, "Like you're any quieter, Trashykawa."

"That's a new one."

"Well," Iwaizumi shrugged. "I'm trying to get as many as possible."

"I'm flattered," Oikawa brought his hand to his chest and fluttered his lashes.

They allowed their attention to drift back to Bokuto and Kuroo, who were currently dancing questionably to music from Kuroo's phone. He'd found a set of speakers, much to everybody's annoyance, and had hooked his phone to it, only to begin blasting some extremely cheesy party music. Oikawa almost felt jealous of Kenma, Kageyama and Hinata, who were still out weeding the field. They'd come in for lunch earlier, and as a result had managed to avoid the terrible dad-dancing currently taking place.

Daichi had excused himself from the living room, claiming that Suga probably needed help making the Onigiri. This left the two clumsy dancers, the model, the ridiculously attractive farmer and two people Oikawa hadn't met before. Iwaizumi had introduced them as Tsukishima and Yamaguchi. Tsukishima, with his straw blond hair and black rimmed glasses, had a very stern look about him. Yamaguchi sat close to him, freckles embellishing his cheeks, talking under his breath to Tsukishima. He seemed to be the only person to make the blond man smile, everybody else receiving emotionless glances or well-practices scowls.

"You two look like idiots," Tsukishima drawled. Yamaguchi snickered.

Bokuto didn't even stop dancing to reply, spiky hair bobbing animatedly, "You look idiot-er by sitting there and being booooring!"

"That's not even a word."

"It is nooooow! Don't be such a spoilsport, Tsukki."

Tsukishima's lip curled in annoyance, "Don't call me that."

"Yeah Bokuto, that name is reserved for his _boyfriend_."

Yamaguchi's features were drowned in cherry red. Tsukishima seemed more bristled than embarrassed, adjusting his glasses to better glare at the dancing pair.

"Oh, whoops, sorry not-Tsukki!"

Kuroo and Bokuto linked arms now, dancing around in a circle. Oikawa didn't know how they had so much energy, especially Bokuto, since he had been working on the field all morning. The exercise didn't seem to be affecting them as they began to move faster. They continued to gain momentum as they span.

"Bro, I'm gonna puke!" Bokuto exclaimed.

"Aw dude, sick!"

"Yeah, bro, sick. Literally sick."

Kuroo stopped spinning suddenly, almost colliding heavily with his best friend, "Oh man, that's totally not sick."

"Yeah it is," Bokuto frowned. "It is sick. I said that."

"No, I mean it's not _sick_. It is sick, but it's not sick, y'know?"

"But bro, I'm totally gonna vomit."

"Yeah, that's _not_ sick. But it is sick."

Tsukishima clicked his tongue, "You two are incredibly irritating."

Kuroo and Bokuto shared a glance, grinning slyly. They slunk over to Tsukishima. The blond man looked extremely wary, one hand gripping the arm of the chair, bracing himself to run. Yamaguchi gripped onto the taller man's wrist as he watched the slowly approaching pair with caution, clearly trying to apprehend their next move.

They launched themselves at Tsukishima, eliciting an uncharacteristically shocked yelp from him as they dragged him up from the chair, Yamaguchi's clinging onto his wrist to hold him down. It was like Tsukki tug-of-war. Kuroo was gripping onto the younger man's wrist, in a battle with Yamaguchi. Bokuto had his arms wrapped around Kuroo's waist. He leant back, putting all of his weight into pulling.

"Dance not-Tsukki, dance like you've always dreamed!"

"Let me go!" Tsukishima demanded.

Oikawa watched the scene in awe. Karakomasai Farm was not what he expected. Iwaizumi groaned and punched the bridge of his nose, clenching his eyes shut.

"If you two don't start behaving, I swear I'll-"

Kuroo released Tsukishima, causing him to go tumbling into Yamaguchi's lap. Yamaguchi was blushing heavily as the blond untangled his lanky limbs, attempting to push himself off the freckled man. Kuroo and Bokuto sauntered over to Iwaizumi, who instinctively sunk back in his chair.

"Oh Iwaizumiiiii," Bokuto sung.

"Dance with us, bad boy, show us your moves," Kuroo made a 'come hither' gesture with his finger, winking at Iwaizumi.

"Do you want me to protect you, Iwa-chan?" Oikawa chirped.

Iwaizumi shot him a look, "No, just make them shut up. They're giving me a damn headache."

Oikawa tapped his knees, pretending to deliberate over the statement, "Okay, but it'll cost you something."

"What?" Iwaizumi asked carefully. "I'm not doing anything weird."

Oikawa feigned offence, placing his hand against his heart and wiping away a tear, "What are you insinuating, Iwa-chan? I only want your mobile number."

Iwaizumi groaned and slammed his head back against the chair, "You'll just send me crappy messages about your hair or something."

"No," Oikawa looked petulant. "I'd send you deep and meaningful messages. And cute pictures of dogs or something. I have one of a dog with spaghetti on its head, just to break the ice."

Kuroo snorted, "That's a good picture, Iwaizumi. He showed me."

Bokuto jumped up and down excitedly, "Wha- I want to see! That sounds _awesome_."

"It's not as awesome as that owl wearing a bow tie, though."

Bokuto shook his head solemnly, "Nothing will ever be as awesome. It's a shame."

Oikawa turned his phone toward the white haired man, revealing the previously mentioned picture. Bokuto's eyes widened. He began to fan his face. Kuroo just stood beside him, nodding his head in agreement.

"Dude, that's freaking cool."

"Does it beat the owl?" Oikawa smirked.

"Ye- no- maybe? No. Nothing beats owls. _Especially_ an owl in a bow tie. Wait, we were making grumpy pants dance! C'mon!"

The pair resumed their approach. Iwaizumi looked at Oikawa expectantly, who simply shrugged and shifted further away from him on the chair, leaving him more exposed for attack. Iwaizumi shot daggers at Oikawa, who tittered away as he watched the scene unfold.

The hazel eyed man tried to get up and run, only to have the back of his shirt grabbed by Kuroo. Bokuto ran around the other side, pushing Iwaizumi into the centre of the room.

"Dance! Dance Iwaizumi, dance like your life depends on it!"

Oikawa snickered as Iwaizumi was engulfed by the pair. They danced around him as he stood awkwardly in the centre, trying and failing to escape their advances. He cursed and pushed, to no avail.

"Oh Iwa-chan, you're a rubbish dancer!" Oikawa wiped tears from his eyes.

"Shut up Assikawa! Get me out of here!" He practically growled.

"Hmm, I'll need my payment."

"Fine, I'll give you my number, just get me out!"

Yamaguchi and Tsukishima took the chance and disappeared from the room. Oikawa stood up and brushed off his front, taking a deep breath so as to be heard over the music and thumping from Bokuto and Kuroo's hectic dancing.

"If you two don't start behaving, I'll tell Kenma."

They froze, eyes widening. In perfect synch, they backed away from their prisoner. They fell to their knees in front of Oikawa, hands clasped in front of them.

"Please don't tell Kenma," Bokuto pleaded.

"He'll give me the look," Kuroo whined.

Bokuto squeaked, "Not the look!"

Kuroo closed his eyes and nodded gravely, "The look."

"I won't tell him," Oikawa placed his hands gently on their heads. "I am a merciful king, after all."

Kuroo and Bokuto bowed before him, thanking and praising their great king for being so gracious. Oikawa basked in their praise, arms open. Iwaizumi rested his hands on his hip, failing to hold back a dazzling smile as he met Oikawa's eyes.

"I suppose you want my number now?"

Oikawa shooed away his newest disciples, watching as they bustled out of the room, before grinning at Iwaizumi, "That would be great."

Iwaizumi nodded and walked toward Oikawa, holding his hand out. The taller man tugged his phone free from the material of his pocket and handed it over to the farmhand. Their hands brushed as the phone was passed between them, and Oikawa attempted to ignore how the simple brush sent warmth coursing through him. He failed. He gulped and scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

Iwaizumi tapped away at Oikawa's phone. When he was done, he handed the phone back. Oikawa didn't know whether he was imagining it, or whether Iwaizumi was careful not to touch him when handing the phone back. Oikawa was quick to change the contact name, turning it back to show Iwaizumi, who was less than impressed.

"No."

"But why? It's cute!" Oikawa droned.

On the screen, the pixels announced that Iwaizumi's new name was 'Hunky Farmer ★~(◡﹏◕✿)', a very fitting name, in Oikawa's opinion. Iwaizumi tried to grab the phone from Oikawa. Being taller, Oikawa simply held the phone up and out of his reach. Iwaizumi stretched up, grabbing Tooru's wrist.

"Nuh-uh, Iwa-chan, my phone means my rules."

"I don't want that name, Crappykawa!"

Oikawa chortled, "Tough!"

Oikawa jumped and ripped his wrist from Iwaizumi's grasp, quickly darting to the other side of the room. Iwaizumi chased after him, hurling insults at him. Oikawa jumped up on the sofa, placing his slippered foot on Iwaizumi's chest to stop him from following. That was a mistake. Iwaizumi smirked as he grabbed Oikawa's slender ankle, pulling. Oikawa shouted out in surprise as he fell into the chair. He collided with the cushions, giggling breathlessly.

Iwaizumi clambered onto the chair, reaching up to grab Oikawa's phone. One hand brushed Oikawa's neck, forcing a small gas from him.

"Oh? Ticklish, are we?" There was a playful hint in Iwaizumi's voice as Oikawa looked up at him. The smile on his face was astonishing. There were light dimples embedded in his cheeks. His eyes crinkle at the sides, and the warm browns flooded his iris, warm and welcoming. His lashes were long, licking the soft skin of his cheeks. Their softness enhanced the hardness of his cheekbones, exquisitely defined under the dim light of the living room.

"N-no, Iwa-ch-" Oikawa writhed as Iwaizumi brought his hands back down to his neck, tickling mercilessly. The most undignified squawk escaped Oikawa's throat, only to be replied with a snort from Iwaizumi. Oikawa kept squealing and squirming under Iwaizumi's touch, tears running down his cheeks and breath coming faster as he laughed. Iwaizumi was laughing too, a strangely musical noise, despite its gruffness.

"Okay, I'll change your name! I give in!" Iwaizumi withdrew his fingers from Oikawa's neck, sitting up and smiling triumphantly.

"Good."

Oikawa tapped away at his phone, changing it to a simple 'Iwa-chan'. He'd add a heart emoticon later. Iwaizumi nodded, "Much better."

"I'm glad."

Only then did it dawn on the both of them just how close they really were. This was the second time in a day. Iwaizumi was practically straddling Oikawa from where he'd been tickling him. Oikawa had sat up to use his phone, bringing his nose just millimetres from Iwaizumi's own. His breath was hot, embracing Oikawa's cheeks. Each soft breath sent a small, almost unnoticeable shiver down Oikawa's spine. He half expected Iwaizumi to move back quickly. He didn't. He sat there, unblinking, staring straight into Oikawa's brown eyes.

"Why aren't you getting modelling jobs?" Iwaizumi breathed, the words barely audible over the clattering of kitchen utensils in the other room.

"Huh?" Oikawa frowned. Iwaizumi was blushing. Again. It was adorable.

Iwaizumi opened his mouth to talk again, but it wasn't his voice that broke the silence.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! I didn't realise- I- I'll just go." The blonde hair of Yachi turned to leave the room. The two men quickly peeled themselves from one another, both blushing bright red.

"Yachi, we weren't-" Iwaizumi tried.

"Sugawara sent me to tell you the Onigiri is ready," she called over her shoulder, her ears red.

Blushing furiously, Oikawa and Iwaizumi rushed out of the room without another word. Silently, they entered the kitchen. Daichi was laying the table whilst Suga cleaned off the sides. Bokuto and Kuroo were having a thumb wrestle, whilst Yachi was sat next to an extremely beautiful woman. She had long, flowing raven hair which cascaded down her back like a midnight sky waterfall. Her eyes were piercing, yet entrancingly beautiful. Yachi was lightly playing with her hands, smiling dreamily up at her.

"Is everyone in this place dating?" Oikawa wondered aloud.

The beautiful woman looked up and smiled, "No, we're not dating."

Oikawa frowned. Yachi just beamed, fidgeting in her seat excitedly. She released the woman's hands, before thrusting her own left hand into Oikawa's, revealing a glistening stone around her ring finger.

"Kiyoko and I are engaged," She exclaimed.

Karakomasai Farm clearly had some sort of enchantment over it. There was no way one farm could have this much romance. And if it did, why wasn't it helping him? All he'd gotten so far were a few awkward moments that would have been better avoided.

That was just his luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!! So I found wifi, as you can see c: also this is my longest chapter yet, so I'm pretty happy! Thanks again for all of your amazing comments, I love you all so much, you're the best!! ^_^
> 
> The title of this chapter is inspired by an amazing song by Blink 182, called 'Feeling This'. It's one of my favourite songs, hehe c:
> 
> Ooh, follow me on tumblr: http://bealikestowrite.tumblr.com


	5. I Just Want To Hold You In My Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa is sad. Matsukawa is sassy. Akaashi is pretty. Iwaizumi is sweet.

Chapter 5

"So, what do I have to do?"

Oikawa had been working at the farm for nearly a month now, far longer than he'd originally intended. In that time he'd stepped in eleven cow pats, ruined fourteen pairs of shoes and had fifty-six showers. He was no closer to Iwaizumi, and had learnt more about Kuroo than he'd ever wanted to know. He'd witnessed countless pancake battles, had been dragged into dancing with Kuroo and Bokuto a number of times, and had laughed at Kageyama falling face first into Mischief's backside. Twice. Oikawa still argued that he hadn't pushed Tobio the second time.

But, after exactly three weeks and six days, Oikawa received a call from Matsukawa, saying he'd finally been offered a job. The model was relieved. Kageyama had been making snide remarks about how maybe they just didn't want Oikawa. Bokuto hadn't stopped talking about his boyfriend who never stopped getting job offers. Kuroo was beginning to suggest that Oikawa should simply accept his role as a farmer, and had tried to invite him to some sort of off-roading tractor race he and Bokuto were going to. It didn't sound all too exciting. Kenma agreed.

Oikawa was tired of animals. He'd been crapped on by cows, licked by dogs and attacked by birds. He liked animals, sure, but these animals had something against him. Maybe they knew he didn't belong. So right now, he needed a break from them. If he had to deal with another animal, he would-

"You have to ride a horse."

Oikawa dropped his hairbrush. His appalled expression blinked back at him in the mirror, big brown eyes accentuated by perfecly flicked eyeliner and thick mascara. His concealer hid the chicken pox scar beneath his hair, and the light discolouration on his chin. He looked odd, staring back at himself in the glass, missing the marks that made him _him_. He loved modelling, but he hated hiding himself. The more they covered them up, covered _him up_ , the more self-conscious he became.

"Mattsun, I don't know if I heard right, but I'm pretty sure you just said-"

Matsukawa grimaced, "No, Tooru, you heard right. You have to ride a horse."

"A big, _scary horse_ ," Hanamaki made claw shapes with his hands, snarling at Oikawa. Matsukawa elbowed his boyfriend in the ribs.

They were sat, side by side, in a long, plush couch pushed up against the far wall of Oikawa's temporary dressing room. It was a deep mauve colour, with lilac cushions either side. It contrasted with the wall behind it, which beheld a wonderful skyline, tall, dark buildings reaching up to a navy blue sky, pinpricked with little sequins of light. The rest of the walls were painted a pastel lilac, decorated here and there with pressed flowers in glass frames. In the centre of the room sat a tiny black table which held a bountiful fruit bowl. Hanamaki was helping himself to the grapes. A glorious chandelier hung from the ceiling, obsidian shapes dancing in the cool breeze from the window.

Oikawa stood up from his dressing table, "Well, you just call me when there's another offer, okay?"

"Oikawa, you can't just walk out, they're expecting you!" Matsukawa exclaimed, leaping up from his chair and guarding the door.

"I can, and I will."

Matsukawa straightened up, attempting to stand as tall as possible as he looked Oikawa dead in the eyes. Oikawa arched a brow and rested a hand on his hip, tapping his foot impatiently on the soft carpet. He wasn't doing this. He liked dogs. He liked cats. He could deal with cows and he could put up with sheep. He didn't like horses. They were so _tall_. And muscular. It was odd.

"If you want to leave, you'll have to get through me first," Matsukawa challenged him unwaveringly.

"You want me to fight you?" Matsukawa nodded his head curtly in reply, prompting the model to take an intimidating step forward.

"Yeah, come on dumbass, let's brawl. I'm taller than you."

Oikawa's tongue protruded from his mouth, "Barely. My arms are bigger than yours."

Hanamaki was cheering now, pumping his fist in the air and using his spare hand as a megaphone of sorts, chanting and jeering. He'd moved to kneel up on the couch, grapes laying discarded on the table.

"I'll smudge your makeup, pretty boy," the manager drawled, smirking knowingly. Oikawa gasped and brought his hand to his heart. He glared at Matsukawa, who simply smiled triumphantly.

"You wouldn't."

"Oh, I would. You need this job, Oikawa. _I_ need this job. So you are going to do this."

Stubbornly, the model crossed his arms over his chest. He looked petulant. Matsukawa didn't shift, only moving to fold his arms across his broad chest and look down authoritatively at Tooru. The pair stared at each other silenty. Oikawa was the first to back down, spinning on his heel and marching back to his dressing table. He resumed brushing his hair, soft tendrils making easy work for the brush. He didn't really need to brush it; he only did it to distract himself.

"Look, I know it's totally your choice what jobs you do and don't do," Matsukawa tried, talking to the back of Oikawa's head. "But it's also my job as your manager to help you make the right decisions. This is the best job you're going to get at the minute, Tooru. It has good pay and good publicity. It sounds like someone put in a good word for you."

The model didn't reply. He simply shrugged and continued brushing his hair. He was an expert at sulking. In the mirror, Oikawa watched as Matsukawa nudged Hanamaki helplessly. Hanamaki just blinked up at him, confused as to what he was expected to do. The darker haired man nodded in Oikawa's direction, eyebrows raised expectantly. Hanamaki sighed dramatically, slouching back into the chair. He closed his eyes before taking a deep breath and pushing himself up from the chair, popping a grape in his mouth before making his way over to Oikawa. A warm weight was pressed on Tooru's shoulder; Hanamaki's hand.

"Oikawa Tooru," he leant forward, meeting Oikawa's brown-eyed gaze in the glass. "From the moment you walked in our office, I knew there was something special about you."

Oikawa frowned, "You said I looked like a pompous jackass."

He placed a finger over Oikawa's lips, forcing him to remain silent, "I _knew_ there was something special about you. I knew you'd do great things. Do you know why?"

Oikawa shook his head, lips still forced shut.

"Because you looked like the type of person who wouldn't let anything get in his way. But it seems I may have been wrong. Because you are letting something stand in your way. A horse. You're letting a horse stand in the way of your dreams. When you marry that farmer guy, what are you going to tell your children? Would you rather tell them that you let a horse trample over your dreams, or that you stepped around the horse and rode it down the road of _success_?"

Oikawa gawped at him. What even was Hanamaki's job? Matsukawa was his manager, and dealt with all of the deals and meetings. Hanamaki just kind of tagged along. He didn't even have his own office, as far as Oikawa could tell, as he seemed to always be lazing about on the couch in Matukawa's office whenever Oikawa visited. He claimed to be the Supporting Manager. Tooru was pretty sure that was a way of dressing up the fact that he just did nothing all the time.

"I rode a horse before," Oikawa removed Hanamaki's finger from his lips. "And I fell off. I broke my arm. Then it stood on my foot."

"But you've never ridden a horse down the _road of success_!"

Oikawa snapped his head around to glower at him. Matsukawa was right though. He needed this job. It was the best one, and a miracle that he'd been offered it. It was entirely out of the blue. They hadn't looked for the job, but it had come to them, saying it would be a privilege to have Oikawa model for them. Hanamaki thought they were spies. Oikawa thought it was a joke. Matsukawa thought somebody on the crew must've been a secret fan of the undiscovered Oikawa Tooru, and had put a good word in for him.

"And I'm not going to," Oikawa retorted.

Matsukawa sighed from the other side of the room, "Akaashi's doing it."

This snapped something in Oikawa. Things were always going so right for Akaashi Keiji. He was offered countless jobs, had no worries about money, and, from what he'd heard, had a very loving relationship with his boyfriend, who adored him. If Akaashi was doing this, than it must be good. Plus, if Oikawa could outdo Akaashi, as he was so confident he could, he would knock him off of his modelling throne, and could take the spot himself. Then he'd be the one with countless jobs, lots of money, and an adoring boyfriend.

"Well then," Oikawa stood up and brushed his front. "What are we wasting time for?"

This was his chance. He wasn't going to blow it.

\---

He was totally going to blow it. Horses were taller than he remembered. He had no idea how to get on without falling off the other side. What if it stood on him? Or threw him off? He was panicking. He was panicking because he knew he was going to blow it, and when he did, that was it. This was a serious shoot. If he messed up, he could end up working on the farm forever. He would never escape the horses.

On the plus side, his outfit was cute. They dressed him in flattering black shorts cut just at the tops of his thighs, a collection of diamante pieces and sequins embellishing them, so that they appeared like stars against the inky night sky. He wore a very unique pair of tights; silver sparkles started at his ankles and stretched up to the middle of his calves, before gradually thinning out and vanishing at his knees to leave plain tights up and under his shorts. His shoes were simple black military boots, fashionably tattered and faded. The shirt was fitted to him perfectly, black with diamante pieces running around the neckline and the sleeves, like ringlets of burning meteors against the coal-black universe. He looked good.

"Mattsun, that horse is really big," Oikawa muttered under his breath.

"All you have to do is sit on it. You've just got to climb on, and then sit there and look pretty. You've got this."

"I know how to look pretty," Oikawa stated bluntly. "I just don't want to fall off of the horse and land in all that icky mud."

It wasn't an inside shoot, as Oikawa had initially thought. They'd driven out to the countryside, onto some farm that had been nice enough to lend them the horses and the land for the shoot. The farm they were using was further from the city than Karakomasai, meaning the roads to it were wilder, narrower, and muddier. They were swamped by overflowing branches, reaching out from either side of the road, desperate to traverse the muddy river of country lane below them. It didn't help that it had rained the night before. Tears fell from sagging green leaves, dripping onto the brown muck and coalescing in a pool of shimmering cold liquid. Oikawa had reluctantly driven his own car, as the crew's cars were full of equipment, and his managers owned a sports car which only seated two people. Hanamaki had been nice enough to offer him a spot in the boot. Oikawa hadn't even justified that with an answer.

The farm wasn't as pretty as Karakomasai. The fields were more upturned mud than grass, clods piled up across the expanse of land. Weeds stretched up from every crack, reaching hungrily for the sparse sunlight breaking through the grey clouds. The foliage lining the field was dry. Browning leaves fluttered to the ground like fallen butterflies, an elaborate dance to their final resting place, to soon be swept away by a careless breeze or unforgiving river of rain. Even the house didn't have as much character, all red bricks and finely trimmed plants.

"Oikawa-san!"

Akaashi Keiji looked gorgeous. His dark locks were wreathed with an intricate crown of bluebells, making his mysterious eyes pop. He was wearing an outfit similar to Oikawa's, though his was decorated with tiny bluebells instead. His makeup was more delicate than Oikawa's. Pale blue eyeshadow surrounded his twilight eyes, miniscule gems scattered across his angular cheekbones. He looked like some sort of forest nymph, with his pale and glimmering skin, and his floral crown perched atop his wavy hair.

"Hello, Oikawa-san. I'm very glad you accepted this shoot."

Oikawa cocked his head like a confused dog, "Glad?"

"Yes," Akaashi smiled politely. "I told them you'd be perfect for this shoot. You look wonderful, by the way."

"Thanks, so do y- wait, what do you mean, you told them?"

"Well they were looking for someone else for the shoot and asked if I could recommend anybody. After everything my boyfriend told me, I knew I had to choose you. I fought your case very hard, Oikawa-san."

"Wait, what? Your boyf-"

Oikawa didn't have time to finish the question before Akaashi was swept away to begin the shoot. They were in a rush; the sky was a threatening grey, the clouds black as they crawled dangerously across the sky. They were afraid it was going to rain, and so wanted the shoot done as quickly as possible.

Oikawa was quickly hustled off in the opposite direction, toward a raven coloured horse. The horse stood tall, towering over Oikawa. The model gulped. It was quite intimidating. Its neck was pure, rippling muscle, and Oikawa couldn't help but think how easy it would be for the horse to just throw him into the mud. He envied Sugawara's ability to ride these magnificent beasts with such ease.

"Okay, Oikawa-san, if you please." The photographer gestured for him to climb onto the horse.

Oikawa gulped. _This is fine,_ he thought, _I've got this_. All he had to do was swing his leg up and over. They'd already placed a little stepladder beside the horse for him, not that it did much to help the situation. With a light push to his lower back from Matsukawa, Oikawa worked his way forward. The horse watched him as he made his way gingerly toward the stepladder, big, round eyes seeming to bore unnervingly into his head. He could barely find the strength to lift his feet up and onto the ladder; it felt as though the weeds had reached up and ensnared his ankles, rooting him to the ground, using him as support to fulfil their hunger for the sun's measly rays. He pulled against the weeds and lifted himself up. One step. Two steps. Akaashi had lifted himself on using nothing but the stirrup. Oikawa didn't even bother trying that, knowing he'd end up breaking his ankle and find himself sprawled embarrassingly across the floor.

The onyx horse whinnied, tossing its head impatiently and flicking its atramentous hair, billowing gracefully in the oncoming wind. It was beginning to pick up. The wind was bitter, penetrating Oikawa's clothing, which wasn't particularly protective anyway. He hid the unpleasant shiver that coursed through his body at one particular icy blast, and ignored a miniscule droplet of rain that blessed his cheek. They needed to get this shoot done. He needed the money. He needed the coverage. He needed his dream.

And so, in one swift movement, full of convincing false confidence, Oikawa threw his long leg over the horse, using the pommel to pull the rest of himself on. The saddle shifted slightly beneath him, making his breath stop for a minute, but it seemed stable enough once he was fully seated. He shifted so he was positioned more comfortably on the seat and placed his feet in the stirrups. The stirrup leather rubbed slightly against his nearly naked legs, which only added to the discomfort of the cold.

"Perfect," the photographer stuck his thumbs up before hiding her face behind the camera. "Now just do what you usually do, Oikawa-san. Look stunning."

Oikawa did his best, he really did- but it was cold. His cheeks were flushed with the bitterness of the wind, and his earlobes were frozen from the biting breeze. Goosebumps ran the length of his arms, usually soft skin raw and bumpy, hairs standing on end as though he'd seen a ghost. The feeling in his fingers was a distant memory. He couldn't remember what it felt like to have toes.

"Wonderful!" Oikawa wasn't entirely sure what she was seeing. He certainly did not look wonderful right now. He looked frostbitten. But he continued to smile, and pout, and pose, because that was what he did.

The wind continued to grow in violence, battering the foliage and whisking away fallen corpses. Hair was whipped around heads mercilessly, hats were blown off and scarves were lost; still, they worked on. Oikawa started to feel uneasy as the horse beneath him started shifting, pacing nervously on its front hooves. His clutch on the reins tightened as the clutch of anxiety on his stomach tightened. Tighter. Tighter. Tighter. The horse paced faster. Oikawa's heart paced faster. The wind was stronger. The clouds were darker. Shards of near frozen rain was felt every so often, the droplet's target yelping in shot every time it hit.

Then there was the thunder. And that was when it all went wrong.

Everything happened so fast. The horse's tail stopped moving, thick hair sitting clamped at its backside. Its ears stood stiffly upward, twitching every so often as it stared into the distance apprehensively. It made a low snorting noise, a sound that rattled Oikawa's ribcage. The rumble of snorting continued, matching a low rumbling that escaped from the sky.

"Oikawa, I don't know much about horses, but I think you should get off," Hanamaki said as he eyed the horse warily.

" _No shit_!" Tooru hissed.

Hurriedly, he removed his feet from the stirrup, pushing himself back toward the cantle to make it easier to swing himself off. Well, it would've been easier, if he'd been just a little quicker. Lightning shattered the bleak sky, splitting it down the middle like a broken window, smaller branches of electricity forming tiny cracks in the distance, an elaborate display of power from the clouds above. The horse roared and lifted its front legs from the ground, throwing its head back agitatedly. Oikawa released his grip on the saddle in shock, forced back as the horse reared, crying deafeningly. The model went tumbling, colliding painfully with the mud. He had foolishly tried to break the fall with his hands, yelping as his left wrist cried out in discomfort. The horse took off, back legs flicking loose balls of mud at his ex-passenger, darting across the field in terror.

"Dammit," Matsukawa cursed and ran over to Oikawa, kneeling beside him. "Are you alright?"

The brown haired man pushed himself up from the ground, cradling his left wrist carefully. He hoped it wasn't broken. Hanamaki was talking to the photographer, who occasionally turned the expensive camera around to show him a picture.

"I'm fine," Oikawa replied stiffly. "I just want to go home."

Matsukawa bit his lip worriedly, a light wrinkle forming between his brows as he frowned. Oikawa tried his best to hide his potential injury. He didn't his manager fretting about that, too.

"Are you sure? You hit the ground pretty hard, you might-"

A tight smile made its way onto Oikawa's lips, "I'm sure, Mattsun. I just need to get home. I'm tired. And I need a shower." He gestured down at himself, his back and side filthy with mud. He was going to get his car filthy.

"Do you want me to get you a change of clothes?"

Oikawa shook his head; he didn't really feel like waiting, "No, it's fine. I've got a coat in my car. I'll sit on that."

"Alright," the taller man nodded. "Drive safely."

\----

Oikawa wanted to cry. His day literally couldn't get any worse. The shoot had been awful, he was covered in mud, his hair was a mess, his makeup was running, and now his car was stuck in mud in the middle of a narrow country lane. Rain poured relentlessly onto the windscreen. Wind shook the car back and forth and branches tapped at the windows, desperate to get in and avoid the rain. He pulled his legs up to his chest and nestled his chin between his knees, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill, swallowing the lump in his throat.

He picked his phone out of the glove compartment and opened it to the contacts menu. He called the only person he felt he could face at that moment. The tone was shrill in his ear, buzzing repeatedly until there was a light crackle, and the strangely comforting sound of familiar breathing.

"Hey," Iwaizumi's voice battled with the sound of clattering plates and cutlery. "How's your shoot?"

"Iwa-chan." Oikawa's voice was hoarse from holding back the tears that were sure to wrack his whole body. It felt like his throat was lined with sandpaper, every word sore against the tender muscle. He gnawed on his fingernails, something he hadn't done for years. His habit had actually been the beginning of his love for nail varnish. He'd started wearing it to remind himself not to bite them, but had soon fallen in love with how nice his nails looked coated in beautiful colours and intricate patterns.

"Oikawa? What's wrong?" Iwaizumi sounded worried. Tooru couldn't explain why that made his stomach flitter with frenzied butterflies.

"Well," he laughed drily. "I'm in a bit of a sticky situation, you see."

"Are you still working?"

"No, I left. My car is stuck in mud. It's gross and I'm cold."

Iwaizumi's voice was soft, "Where are you? I'll come and get you."

"Always my knight in shining armour, Iwa-chan," Oikawa was surprised when Hajime didn't object to the statement. He frowned as he tried to figure out where he was. "I think I passed a golf course a little while back... There was a big animal farm next to it. It had an owl exhibition."

"Hang on," Iwaizumi's voice became distant as he turned away from the phone. It was barely audible, but Oikawa could just make out the excited sound of Bokuto's voice. "Bokuto knows where that is. I'll be there soon. Bokuto and Kuroo will bring a tractor to pull your car out."

"Thank you, Iwa-chan," his voice was low and quiet with exhaustion. The other side of the phone was silent, and Oikawa thought Iwaizumi had hung up on him. "Iwa-chan?"

Iwaizumi cleared his throat, "Sorry, I got distracted. I'll be there as soon as possible. Sit tight, okay? And put your hazards on."

Oikawa giggled, "Iwa-chan, are you my mum?"

"I'm being serious. I don't want anything to happen."

This stirred something in Oikawa. Iwaizumi was worried about him. He didn't want anything to happen to him. This unfurled an unfamiliar warmth in Oikawa's gut; was this what it felt like to be cared about? It was nice, whatever it was. He nibbled on his bottom lip to stop the grin that threatened to break out across his face.

"They're already on, don't worry."

Iwaizumi sighed in relief, "Alright. Just hold on."

It was half an hour before Iwaizumi finally arrived in his navy blue truck, mud splattered up the sides and coating the wheels. Oikawa had been dozing off, head slowly rolling forward and eyelids drooping. He was cold, tired, and hungry. A tap on his window shocked him awake.

"Iwa-chan," Oikawa breathed as he pushed the door open to a gently smiling Iwaizumi Hajime, who looked handsome as per usual, in his black jumper and tatty blue jeans, hair dripping from the rain.

"Your knight in shining armour has arrived."

"Yeah, he has."

"C'mon, let's get you home."

\----

They drove in silence, the only time they interacted was when Oikawa had to give him directions. Aside from that, the car was quiet. Iwaizumi's music played gently in the background. He'd let Oikawa browse his music collection, but the taller man had quickly decided Hajime had a poor taste in music, all old rock bands he'd never heard of. He instead occupied his time admiring the dark haired man as he drove. The angular side profile he loved, framed extravagantly with dark stubble. The way his hair curled at the nape of his neck, and how his dark lashes emphasised the bright greens in his eyes, and how the skin of his throat danced each time he swallowed, and how the muscles jumped beneath his soft skin with each gear change, and how-

Iwaizumi turned to look at him as they pulled into the car park outside Oikawa's apartment complex. He caught Oikawa's eyes. He smiled knowingly, as though he was aware of the shameless staring Oikawa had been doing. He probably was- Oikawa wasn't very discreet about it.

"This is your place?"

Oikawa nodded, "Yep."

"Right, come on then. You need to get warm." Iwaizumi removed his seatbelt and moved to exit the car.

"Don't you have to get back to the farm?"

"Nope, Daichi gave me the rest of the day off."

Oikawa followed Iwaizumi out of the car. The rain had eased off for a bit, only a light drizzle blanketing the pair as they strolled toward the apartment. The silence between them was comfortable. It wasn't the awkward silence Oikawa usually experience when walking toward a secluded hotel room with a stranger, nor was it the awkward silence that followed when Oikawa snapped at his parents for prying into his life too much; it was a nice silence, one that needed no filling, a silence that let Tooru know that Iwaizumi was there if he wanted to talk, but he was also there if he just wanted to pretend. Iwaizumi's presence wasn't intrusive. It was reassuring.

They entered the foyer, recently redecorated with finely cut potted plants and tacky painting, and turned right into the elevator. Oikawa pushed the corresponding button and the doors clanged shut. The elevator was lined with mirrors, and Oikawa couldn't help but stare at himself in disgust. The person staring back at Oikawa was nearly unrecognisable. His hair was mussed around his head, brown fluff sticking up haphazardly in all directions. His face was pale and sunken with exhaustion. It looked hollow, dull, almost resembling a skull. His lips were slightly chapped, slightly scabbing over where he'd gnawed on his lips earlier. The dull luminescence of the elevator lights caused the river of tears that had collected on his cheeks to glisten dimly. The brown eyes that usually sparkled with cheer were empty. They seemed cold, distant in the black circles beneath them. He sighed, dissatisfied with the vacant reflection he was confronted with.

He felt Iwaizumi touch his arm gently, saw the look of concern on his face in his reflection, "Oikawa?"

The elevator dinged and the doors dragged themselves open. Oikawa pulled himself away from Iwaizumi and plastered a fake smile across his face, gesturing for Iwaizumi to follow him. He removed his keys from his coat pocket and unlocked his door. He felt relief wash over him as he stepped inside. He felt safe. The only person who could see him now was Iwaizumi.

"Make yourself at home, Iwa-chan," Oikawa threw his arms wide after hanging up his coat and putting on his slippers. "Do you want something to drink?"

Iwaizumi wandered into the open living room. It was simple; a red couch sat in the middle of the room, almost completely hidden beneath plump cushions and fuzzy blankets. A coffee table, marked with countless coffee and food stains, sat in front of the couch, piled high with magazines, paperwork, DVDs, Oikawa's purple laptop, and videogames. A TV sat on the far wall, hooked up to which was Oikawa's limited edition Batman PlayStation. He had started playing online with Kenma sometimes, who was an incredible player. Along with this, however, Kuroo demanded to play with his third best friend 'Kaz'. Kuroo was awful. He got too distracted, trying to choose a good outfit whilst being chased by a hoard of zombies; the amount of times Oikawa had had to save him was ridiculous.

"No, I'll make you something to drink. You need a shower."

Oikawa smirked, trying to alleviate the pressing need to cry, "Are you trying to tell me I smell?"

"Maybe," Iwaizumi chuckled. It was a nice sound, strangely musical in its roughness. It made Oikawa's heart flutter. "Just go and shower, dumbass."

The shower did its best to soothe Oikawa. The hot water loosened the knots in his muscles. He watched as inky water dripped off of his face, his makeup coming loose, forming a liquid onyx whirlpool around the plughole. He scrubbed away the rest with his palms, the crevices of his skin creating midnight sky canyons. He washed his hair, soapy suds tickling the bare skin of his back as they slid away from his hair. His tears were lost amidst the pouring warmth. The steam seemed to wake him up whilst also soothing his aching joints. It felt good to feel his fingers again. It didn't feel as good to remember the dull throbbing in his left wrist.

He stepped out of the shower and towelled himself dry. He pulled on a simple pair of loose, grey jogging bottoms and his favourite Alien: Isolation t-shirt. If it was anyone else, Oikawa wouldn't dare to wear something so casual. But it wasn't anyone else. It was Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi who hadn't said anything about Oikawa looking his worst, or about Oikawa looking his best. Iwaizumi who made him feel comfortable. Iwaizumi who made him feel as though it was alright to be himself.

He padded out to the living room, still towelling his hair dry, not caring if it went fluffy. Iwaizumi was sat on the couch. He had placed two mugs on the table, steam rising high from each. Somehow, he'd picked out Oikawa's favourite mug for him. It was in the shape of an alien head, perched on a UFO shaped coaster.

"Hey," he greeted as he sat down next to Iwaizumi.

"Who would've thought the fabulous Oikawa Tooru is just a massive nerd?" He nodded down at Oikawa's shirt.

Oikawa pouted, "It was a good game."

Iwaizumi stretched out in the chair, "It wasn't as scary as I thought it would be."

"The jumpscares were good though."

"Not as good as Silent Hill."

Oikawa tilted his head and thought for a moment, "No, I guess not. Even that game wasn't ridiculously scary, though."

"What?" Iwaizumi looked at Oikawa in disbelief. "That game was scary! I practically wet myself. Pyramid Head gave me nightmares." He shuddered.

"Aw, is Iwa-chan a scaredy-cat?" Oikawa grinned and poked Iwaizumi's bicep playfully. It was also for sheer self-indulgence. God, he had nice arms.

"No, it was terrifying. Even Kenma said so. What have you played scarier than that?"

He replied without hesitation, "Corpse Party."

"Never played it," he said. "Isn't it an anime too?"

"Yeah, but they're really different."

Iwaizumi hummed in acknowledgement. Just having him this close brought a new, comfortable warmth to Oikawa's stomach, heat thrumming gently beneath his skin. He could almost forget the events of the day in this surrounding calm. Almost.

It was difficult to forget when there was a sudden searing pain in his wrist as he picked his mug up off of the table. He hissed in pain at the sudden stabbing sensation. The mug tumbled from his hand and smashed on the floor, boiling tea spilling out across the carpet. Oikawa cursed. He brought his arm up to his chest protectively and leant over it, feeling the tears return to the backs of his eyes. He wanted this day to end. He wanted to hide away in his room and sob; painful, heart wrenching sobs.

"Shit, Oikawa, are you alright?" Iwaizumi was leant beside him, carefully tugging on the ankle of the model's trousers to grab his attention.

Oikawa's voice was barely above a whisper, fearing anything much louder would just be submerged in tears, "I'm so pathetic. Just leave me. Everyone else does."

"Oi, Crappykawa, don't say stupid stuff like that. I'm not just going to leave you."

Oikawa brought his eyes up to meet Iwaizumi's. They were so close. Iwaizumi's warm breath fanned Oikawa's face, and every exhale escaping Oikawa's lips caused Iwaizumi's eyelashes to flutter, like the feathers of a flying bird. He could easily bridge the gap between them and capture Hajime's tender lips between his own. He could trail his fingers through the depths of his hair, tug him closer gently, hold him close, lose himself in the solid warmth that was Iwaizumi, forget the events of the day and just curl up against him as Iwaizumi cradled him tightly. He needed to be close to him. This fact scared Oikawa; never before had he required closeness. Never before had he felt as though he _needed_ somebody. For some reason, he couldn't hide the fact that he had some strange desire to be with Iwaizumi at every moment, to hold him as close as humanly possible. It made him feel vulnerable. But, in this unfamiliar vulnerability, Oikawa felt safe. It was as though Iwaizumi brought out Oikawa's inner vulnerability and shielded it. He reminded Oikawa it was alright to be weak, and his unspoken words promised to protect this weakness, to comfort him when he needed it. The unsteady beating of Oikawa's heart told him this was no longer just a meaningless crush.

Oikawa could feel hot tears spilling down his face. They tasted salty, slightly stinging the cuts on his lips. His breath was ragged, his chest shuddering with every uncertain breath. Warmth engulfed his cheek as Iwaizumi brought a hand up, wiping Oikawa's tears away with his thumb. Oikawa let out a shaky sigh as he leant into Iwaizumi's hand, rough, calloused palm against smooth, dampened cheek. He was weak, so _damn weak_ and now he was crying in front of Iwaizumi, the man who had been hostile to him for the first week of knowing him, the man who had gradually warmed to him, the man who ran to Oikawa's aid when he'd needed it. Why did he do that? He didn't have to. He could've sent anyone else to do it, could've ignored Oikawa's obvious bad mood and left Suga to deal with it, or sent Kuroo and Bokuto over to do something ridiculous to distract him.

But he didn't.

Something about that made Oikawa's heart flutter, warmed an already flickering fire in his stomach, sending butterflies fluttering around his stomach, their wings beating up the fire, making it burn brighter, lighting him up to his fingers and toes, sending an exhilarating warmth through his extremities. Iwaizumi continued to smooth his cheek. He didn't say anything, just stared up at Oikawa with concern obvious in his eyes. He was waiting for the model to speak.

"Why did you come to help me?" His voice was frail, as fragile as fine china, close to shattering.

"Because you called. Why wouldn't I help you?"

Oikawa shrugged, "You barely know me, yet you're doing so much for me."

"I know enough about you to know you're not a bad guy. I wasn't just going to leave you in that muddy lane, was I? I might act distant sometimes, and you might think I'm difficult, but it's not because I don't like you. In fact, it's entirely the opposite. I like you too much."

The blush that crawled up Iwaizumi's neck was ridiculously endearing. It spread itself across his nose. And yes, those were freckles scattered like a distant constellation over the bridge of his nose, made more obvious against their now red backdrop. Oikawa wanted to reach up and trace them all, count them all, _kiss them all_. They were beautiful. He'd always found freckles beautiful, each collection a unique universe across a person's face, down their arms, over their back. Birthmarks too; blossoming reds, elegant blues, deep purples. He had one, a collaboration of reds and purples, situated just above his right hip. They usually covered it up, though.

"Iwa-chan?"

"Mm?"

Oikawa wiped his eyes with the backs of his hands, "Is this something happening?"

Iwaizumi smirked, "I guess so. See what happens when you don't act like a complete jerk?"

"Meanie!" Oikawa smacked his arm playfully. "I'm having a quarter life crisis and you're being a bully."

Iwaizumi reached out and took Oikawa's sore wrist gently in his hands. He turned it over and frowned at it, carefully swiping a finger over it. Oikawa watched on, wholly aware of Iwaizumi's breath over his tender skin.

"You need to put an icepack on this before it swells."

"Later," Oikawa sighed sleepily. "I want to do something else now."

Iwaizumi pulled himself onto the couch, sitting closer than necessary to Oikawa. The press of his thigh against Oikawa's was nice.

"What?"

"Cry. And watch crappy daytime television."

"Well if you're gonna cry," Iwaizumi started. Oikawa expected him to get up and leave; who would want to stay there and watch him wallow in his own self pity? He didn't. He reached around Oikawa to tug a fluffy alien blanket over the both of them, before settling his hand on Oikawa's thigh, stroking gently with his thumb. Oikawa's eyes widened, but his shock was nothing to match Iwaizumi's at his own actions, his cheeks a fiery red as he did anything to keep his gaze away from Oikawa. He reached for the TV remote and switched to some low budget cooking show. The smashed mug lay forgotten on the floor. "Make sure you get it all out, okay?"

Oikawa used his last strand of confidence to nestle his head in against Iwaizumi's shoulder. He could feel the tears coming thick now. He brought his hand down to Iwaizumi's, placing his palm on top. He slipped his fingers in the gaps, only to feel Iwaizumi squeeze them lightly. That took some of the pain away, making his heart ache in a different way. Nobody had ever been this gentle with him. The hypnotising heat emanating from Hajime, mixed with the intoxicating smell of damp rain, musky aftershave, and clothing detergent made Oikawa's eyelids heavy. He forgot then the stresses of the day, slowly drifting away in this unfamiliar calm.

When he woke up, hours later, in his soft bed, he didn't feel alone like he usually did. He looked, bleary eyed and heavy chested, over to his bedside table. He found five things. One, a note and his car keys from Kuroo and Bokuto, attached to a plush owl they'd clearly bought from the owl exhibition. Two, a video game he'd spoken to Kenma about, and one he seemed more than happy to lend to him for a short while. Three, a generously sized slice of Sugawara's famous strawberry shortcake. Four, a pile of medical supplies. Five, another note.

It took him a while to realise that his wrist was wrapped tightly in bandage to reduce the swelling, elevated on a pillow beside him. He smiled to himself; it felt nice to be taken care of. He reached over to the table, grabbing Kuroo and Bokuto's note first. A grin broke across his face as he read it.

_Kaz, we love you, man. This owl reminded us of you because it's super pretty. Come back to the farm soon, Bokuto needs to show you his newest owl impression! Oh, and Kenma said you can borrow this game. He said killing zombies always makes him feel better._

Next, he looked at the medical supplies. He found some anti-inflammatory painkillers, a wrist brace and some more bandages. He picked up the note, smiling fondly as he read it.

_You sprained your wrist. Take some painkillers and put an icepack on it. I bandaged it to stop it swelling. Only use the brace if it's really sore. And don't overwork yourself, Shittykawa, I'm still expecting you on the farm tomorrow, we've got a new calf we're meant to be nursing. Also you punched me when I was tucking you in, so you can come to Kiyoko and Yachi's wedding as my plus one to make up for that._

He beamed and brought the note back to rest above his erratically beating heart. It was then that Oikawa knew he was done for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I am so sorry. I don't know why this chapter was so sad, it just sorta happened. But it gets kinda happy at the end, right? I promise the next chapter will be more lighthearted; the weddiiiiiing ooh c: There will be cake, fluff and dancing. It'll be fun!
> 
> Secondly, the title of this chapter is inspired by another of my favourite songs! It's 'Starlight' by Muse, and whenever I listen to it I can't stop thinking of IwaOi. Plus it went pretty well with this chapter.
> 
> Thank you all so much for your support! Reading your comments always makes me so happy, and thank you for the kudos, too. I never expected to get this many reads, seriously, you're all amazing and I appreciate everything you all do ^_^
> 
> Come talk to me on Tumblr, it'll be great: www.bealikestowrite.tumblr.com


	6. If You Want Me, Let Me Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo is awful at video games. Bokuto loves emoticons as much as Oikawa. Iwaizumi buys flowers. Tension. Mischief strikes again. A familiar face arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so the wedding is going to be split into two chapters! This is sort of more the run up to the reception itself, so next chapter the reception will actually be taking place. Thank you so much for reading! Enjoy ヾ(＾-＾)ノ

Chapter 6

 

Sunlight poured in through the window on the day of the wedding. It made even the view from Oikawa's bedroom window somewhat beautiful. It shone down on the tarmac, turning it into an encapsulating onyx river stretching for miles, lined with metal fencing that fragmented the sun's rays, scintillating brightly. Life buzzed outside the glass; children running for school, shop owners opening their quaint little stores, the singing of birds straining to outdo the low roar of cars, darting back and forth across the road. Oikawa smiled to himself, elbow rested on the windowsill. The wind tickled his cheeks and danced along his eyelashes. He reached his arm out, sighing contentedly as the heat of the sun embraced his skin. He hadn't felt this calm in a long time.

 

Withdrawing his bandaged arm from the outside world, he turned back into his bedroom. Hanging on the front of his wardrobe was a formal, pale lilac suit with a pastel pink shirt. It was one of his favourites. He liked how it emphasised his dark eyes and oak brown hair. He had already adorned his nails with an elegant pink, one Yachi had let him borrow because she had too many already. His hair was behaving today, a gentle brown wave against his forehead, framing his face nicely.

 

Only close family were at the ceremony, but every employee at the farm was attending the reception. He presumed the couple were at the Shibuya ward office now, finalising their certificates. As Iwaizumi's plus one, he was being picked up at one in the afternoon to drive out to Karakomasai, where they had spent the last day constructing a big marquee. Kageyama and Hinata had been in charge of hanging bunting around the edge of the marquee. That had been an interesting ordeal, with Hinata perched atop Kageyama's shoulders, screaming each time his boyfriend moved too fast, or almost threw him onto the floor. Suga, with the help of Asahi and Noya, worked at baking a tremendous wedding cake. Although his only job had been cracking the eggs, Noya had somehow ended up covered in flower, icing, and strawberry juice. He'd also almost made himself sick by eating the unused icing. Kuroo and Bokuto had spent hours bringing all of the tables and chairs in. Kenma and Yamaguchi carefully cut out decorative paper flowers, handing them to Tsukishima to hang from the ceiling. Oikawa had teamed up with Iwaizumi to lay every table neatly.

 

He wandered out to the living room and lounged out across his sofa. His phone lay on the coffee table, alien keychain lighting up, alerting him of a text message. Sighing, he reached over. He unlocked his phone, rolling his eyes as he saw a selfie of Bokuto and Kuroo as his background, a less than impressed Kenma sat in the distance. He had been made to promise not to change it. Three messages awaited him.

 

**Kuroo [8:17am]:** dude, hope u got ur hottest suit 4 2day bc we r holding an intervention. ur gonna make iwa swoon. dw, kuto and i have this under control  <3<3

 

Oikawa ran his hand over his face. The idea that Bokuto and Kuroo had something 'under control' didn't fill him with any sort of confidence. He was already imagining the ridiculous number of things that could go wrong. Besides, he didn't _need_ an intervention. Iwaizumi had already invited him as his plus one, so that must mean something. Was this a date? _Did_ this mean something? Just thinking about it was hurting his head. He mentally kicked himself before skipping over to the next message.

 

**Kenma [8:24am]:** Ignore Kuroo. He won't do anything stupid. I'll keep him occupied with food or something, that usually works. Bokuto will be distracted too. See you later.

 

**Kuroo [8:32am]:** idk wat kenma sent u but I dont like the way he keeps smiling at me sneakily like its rlly cute but i kno hes gonna try n distract me from my master plan. probably with food bc that usually works. but not this time. ur 1 of my bffs kaz n im gonna get u a boyfriend. also play online with me?? <3<3<3<3

 

Oikawa sat up and ran his hand through his hair. It was still soft and fluffy from his early morning shower, a light smell of lavender escaping from his chestnut curls. He reached out for his PlayStation remote, turning on the TV and the console. He plugged his headset into the remote and rested his feet up on the coffee table. The console had barely been on for a minute when he received a party invite from 'applecat16'. Kuroo didn't have his own account, instead preferring to use Kenma's. Oikawa accepted the party invitation and was immediately greeted by a familiar boisterous voice.

 

"Hey Kaz!"

 

Oikawa grinned, "It's _way_ too early to be that loud, Kuroo."

 

"Lighten up dude, it's an exciting day! And there's no better way to start such an exciting day than by _slaying some zombies!_ Am I right?"

 

"Okay, but I'm not saving your ass when you die because you were too busy choosing a cool outfit."

 

Kuroo sounded petulant, and Oikawa could practically sense him pouting, "I wanted to wear the shark head! Besides, I'm not playing, Kenma is."

 

Oikawa frowned as he loaded up the game, "If Kenma's playing, how do you have the headphones?"

 

"Kuroo was playing earlier, but he's terrible at this game. I couldn't watch anymore." Kenma's voice was slightly distant, yet still audible, clearly sat close to Kuroo. His voice, usually so calm, had a hint of fondness in it as he spoke about his boyfriend.

 

"I'm not terrible!"

 

"You walked _into_ fire, Kuro. Twice."

 

"I wanted to cook myself a little for the zombies. They should have a cooked meal every once in a while, y'know?" Oikawa heard him shrug, a rustle of fabric against skin. He smiled to himself. Kuroo and Kenma adored one another.

 

The game eventually loaded, displaying the protagonist standing confidently on top of an overturned bus, looking out dramatically at the scene of dilapidated city and rotting zombies surrounding him. He joined Kenma's game, snorting as he saw how ridiculously his character was dressed. He presumed Kuroo had been the one to dress him; he stood proud in a pair of luminous green boxers with bunny slippers on his feet. He had a superhero cape slung around his neck and boxing gloves on his hands. His head bore a very dashing top hat. Tooru's own character looked much more epic in his crocodile onesie. Kenma was in the midst of a fight, swinging his boxing gloved fists frantically. Kuroo was cheering him on and tittering each time a zombie was sent flying across the horizon. The amber eyed man kept having to remind Kuroo to keep quiet, because he didn't feel like apologising to the elderly couple upstairs for the _fourth time_ that week.

 

"You had to apologise three times?" Oikawa raised an eyebrow in intrigue. "That's impressive. I told you your voice travels far."

 

"Please don't encourage him," said Kenma.

 

"Sorry," Oikawa joined in the fight, pulling out a huge, electrified hammer. Kuroo oohed in delight as Oikawa's character smashed the hammer against the road, sending zombies flying left and right. "Actually, I'm curious. _Three times?_ What did you do?"

 

The model could practically hear the triumphant grin on Kuroo's face as he listed his mischiefs, "The first one was when Bokuto came over. We made a band."

 

"It wasn't a band," Kenma stated. "Bokuto used pots and pans for drums, and you used the Guitar Hero guitar. Then you smashed a light."

 

" _It was my final solo_ ," Kuroo whined in exasperation. "You said you liked it."

 

There was poorly hidden amusement in Kenma's voice, "That was before you almost knocked Keiji out with a falling light fixture."

 

Oikawa shook his head. He made a mental note to hide anything fragile if he ever invited Kuroo or Bokuto over to his place. They were so lively all of the time, always full of energy and questionable ideas. He envied their carelessness. He envied their ability to let their worries fall by the wayside and just enjoy what they had. They were always so optimistic. It was refreshing- since he always tended to look at the worst side of things- to have people remind him that there is always a silver lining, even if it is just a tiny sliver around a much bigger, much more sinister cloud.

 

"The second time was when I brought a blender home."

 

"Oh God," Oikawa cringed. He could already tell this wasn't going to end well.

 

"I thought I'd make a nice apple smoothie for my adorable boyfriend," he started. Kenma sounded flustered at being called adorable, eliciting a chuckle from Kuroo. "Long story short, the kitchen walls don't only have a slight green tint to them, but they also have a _delicious_ aroma. There was a lot of cussing as I dodged flying apple pieces. I don't think they were happy about that."

 

"There's a lid on those things for a reason, you know."

 

"Well I know that _now_!"

 

He and Kenma had just made it to a boss. Last time he'd tried this with Kuroo, the dark haired man had somehow managed to fall _through_ the floor and die. He really was that bad. But this time he had Kenma, who actually knew what he was doing. With ease, the pair dodged all of the oncoming attacks, returning each with a quick attack of their own.

 

"And the third time?" Oikawa questioned, eyes glued to the screen.

 

"I accidentally stood on Spyro's tail. I then had to spend an entire two hours trying to coax him down from on top of the wardrobe. Then Crash decided to sharpen his claws on my leg. Apparently a grown man shouting and cursing as he runs around with a cat clinging to his leg makes a lot of noise."

 

"Who would've thought?"

 

They stayed like that for the next hour or so. Oikawa and Kenma made it through an impressive amount of the game and, much to Kuroo's disappointment, Kenma changed his character into more suitable attire for a zombie apocalypse- that being a pair of cat ears and a matching cat onesie. Kuroo spent the hour complaining about the elderly couple upstairs, and how _he_ didn't complain when he could hear their television playing through the ceiling. Kenma had to remind him that they only turned it up to drown out his own awful singing. Eventually, Kuroo got bored of the topic. He was also hungry.

 

"Pudding," Kuroo cooed. "I can't feel my leg; you're heavier than you look. And I'm really hungry."

 

"But you're _comfy_ ," Kenma huffed.

 

The trio fell silent as a long, low rumbling noise began. It lasted for a good ten seconds. It was so loud that Oikawa could hear nothing but the growl through his headphones. The noise was followed by Kuroo snorting in amusement.

 

"I'm _really_ hungry," he repeated, with emphasis this time.

 

A creak could be heard as Kenma shuffled off of Kuroo's lap. There was a rustling as Kuroo handed the headphones over to his boyfriend. Oikawa could hear them talking, muffled beyond comprehension, the deep hum of Kuroo's voice getting further away. Kenma's voice grew louder to contrast with his growing distance, and Oikawa could just about make out what he was saying. Oikawa chuckled; he was telling Kuroo not to eat too much before the reception, because there was no doubt he'd end up in an eating competition with Bokuto and Noya again- if he didn't eat much now then he was less likely to make himself sick later, and also more likely to reclaim his throne.

 

"He's such a handful," Kenma muttered.

 

"But you love him."

 

The other end was silent for a moment, before a quiet voice replied, "Yes, I do."

 

"How did you know?" Oikawa blurted out, curiosity getting the better of him, as per usual. "That he liked you, I mean." He coughed nervously at the end, afraid that he'd pushed Kenma away. Kozume Kenma wasn't known for being a particularly open person. He was reserved, much unlike his boyfriend, and didn't talk much about that sort of thing. Kenma remained silent on the other end. Oikawa began to panic. Maybe he should've asked Kuroo instead? Why was he even asking this? It wasn't like it affected him in any way. A part of him was hopeful, though, hopeful that maybe Kuroo's behaviour before he confessed to Kenma was similar to Iwaizumi's toward him. Although, that was being very optimistic. That was assuming that Iwaizumi had any interest in him whatsoever, other than being someone to help him out with his tasks on the farm.

 

"You mean before he told me that I should date him because he has great puns?" Kenma's voice shocked Oikawa from his reverie. He nodded in reply, only to realise seconds later that Kenma couldn't see him, nor was he telepathic.

 

"Yeah, before that."

 

Kenma hummed in thought, punching a zombie across the road. There was a distant clattering of metal from Kenma's side of the microphone, followed by a distressed yell and a chorus of hissing which Kenma chose to ignore. He must've been used to Kuroo's antics.

 

"He suddenly became really quiet, and tried to keep his distance from me. He asked Kageyama if he would trade farmhands, so he would work with Shouyou instead of me, meaning we'd barely see each other. Kageyama refused. Obviously."

 

"Oh," Oikawa chuckled. "Cow Bait-kun had a little crush too?"

 

A small exhale escaped Kenma's nose, "He dealt with it better than Kuro."

 

"Did he tell you after that, then?"

 

"No," Kenma replied. "Obviously, Shouyou managed to get Kageyama to tell him everything Kuroo had said. Then he told me."

 

"Ah."

 

"Yeah. I knew I couldn't let him avoid me anymore. When he realised I wasn't just going to let him run away, he started being really nice to me. Then he told me about his puns."

 

"And the rest is history."

 

"Mm," Kenma agreed. "But I don't think Iwaizumi will be the same, if that's what you were asking about."

 

"Th-that was _not_ what I was thinking about!" Tooru sputtered. He attempted to distract Kenma from the topic by launching himself into an oncoming hoard of zombies, hoping this would be enough to shift his focus. It wasn't. Kenma was quiet for a few moments, before the gentle hum of his voice settled in Oikawa's ear once more.

 

"I don't think Iwaizumi is as bad as Kuroo at expressing his emotions. He always says he hates it when people make things more difficult than they need to be."

 

"So you think he'd just tell me?"

 

"I think he'd make it obvious," Kenma replied. "But I thought you weren't thinking about that?"

 

Oikawa huffed indignantly, "You brought it up!"

 

"Mm."

 

The pair were enveloped in silence once more. Now, the only sound through the headphones was the occasional murmur of Kuroo's voice as he shouted over to Kenma, and the continual drone of the walking dead. Oikawa suspired. Whilst attempting to maintain at least a small amount of his attention on the video game, he started thinking back over his interactions with Iwaizumi, trying to see if anything suggested a reciprocated attraction. _Why aren't you getting modelling jobs?_ But people said that to him all the time, in all sorts of different contexts. People he'd only just met, enamoured by his appearance, said it to him, thinking it to be a wonderful comment. The girl he 'dated' briefly, the one who'd broken up with him because their birth signs weren't compatible, had said it in a tone of utmost disappointment, clearly convinced that she had been right, that Tooru just wasn't cut out for modelling. Then Iwa-chan said it, in a way that couldn't be any more ambiguous. He was breathless, words uttered barely above a whisper. Had they even meant to slip out?

 

For a man who was supposedly less complex than Kuroo, Iwaizumi Hajime was proving extremely confusing. But that happened a lot, didn't it, in all those rom-coms and shoujo mangas? Even the simplest things about romance became excessively complicated when you were the one entwined in the romance itself.

 

Tooru allowed his mind to drift further. He remembered his modelling shoot, and how Iwaizumi had run to his aid. His knight in shining armour. His fantasy in muddy overalls. He recalled how Iwa-chan had cared for him, had stayed by his side when he could've just left, had helped him to forget his stresses by just _being there_. He made Oikawa feel comfortable. _I wasn't just going to leave you in that muddy lane, was I?_ He dropped everything to help Oikawa. He instantly knew that something was wrong. Oikawa trusted him to understand; he understood enough to know that Oikawa didn't want to talk about it, but just wanted to cry. _I know enough about you to know you're not a bad guy._ People never told him that. He'd even once been told that his appearance made up for his personality- that had hurt him more than he'd let on. _I like you too much_.

 

_I like you too much._ If Hajime could say that much, then why couldn't he say more? Why had he held himself back? Perhaps it was because he felt Oikawa was too vulnerable at that moment in time, and didn't want to take advantage. Perhaps he feared Oikawa wouldn't return his feelings. Perhaps there was something else. _Somebody else_.

 

Oikawa gasped. There was a questioning hum from Kenma.

 

"Iwa-chan is single, right?" Oikawa asked, voice weak.

 

"Mhm."

 

"But there was somebody else, wasn't there?"

 

"Just the one," Kenma sniffed. "I only met him once. I didn't like him. Iwaizumi did, though. A lot."

 

Oikawa frowned, "What happened?"

 

"Don't know. I wasn't at the farm long before they broke up. I know it was messy."

 

"Kuroo never said anything?"

 

"No. Iwaizumi didn't talk about it. He only told Suga."

 

_I've been played with before._ Oikawa gulped. Was it this ex? Did he play with Iwaizumi's feelings? _I've been left behind before._ He was left behind. As in, he still had feelings, and somebody left him in the dark. Somebody used him and then moved on. Did he still have feelings for this ex? Is that why he held back? Or was it because he feared Oikawa would leave him behind, too?

 

_I like you too much._ _Too much._

 

"I need to go," Kenma disrupted Oikawa's thoughts. "Kuroo wants me to try and brush his hair."

 

"Wait, what time is it?"

 

"Quarter past twelve. You should probably start getting ready."

 

" _Crap,"_ he hissed. "I'm never gonna be ready in time. I'll see you later."

 

Kenma hummed in acknowledgment. Swiftly, Oikawa left the game and switched the PlayStation off, tearing his headphones hastily from his head and throwing them aside with his controller. He leapt up from the chair and stampeded into his bedroom, narrowly missing slipping on rejected shirts and trousers.

 

Iwaizumi was coming to pick him up in little under an hour. He was nowhere near ready. At least he had his suit prepared. He stripped himself free of the mismatching clothes he'd thrown on after his shower and slipped into his suit. The sleeves of his shirt brushed his palms. He rolled them up so they sat midway up his forearm, pale pink complimenting his delicate skin. He pulled the blazer on next, cool lilac emphasising the shadows against his skin, hiding in the hollow of his throat, beneath his jaw, and cast by his lashes. His trousers fit perfectly, as expected, long legs pressed flawlessly against thin fabric.

 

Getting dressed wasn't the difficult bit. It was everything else; hair, deciding which scent to wear, makeup or no makeup. He planted himself on the plush stool in front of his vanity and stared at himself in the mirror. He blinked. The evanescent light of the encroaching afternoon seeped through his window. It flooded onto his vanity, trickles of light hopping through the many bottles decorating the table top, causing the various liquids to glimmer like fantastical potions. The light was favourable to him, he felt. It made the pale colours of his suit seem brighter. The browns of his eyes seemed warmer, matching the oaky hue of his hair. He smiled. It wasn't often that he looked in the mirror and felt satisfied with what he saw. He knew he'd probably wake up the next morning and be able to pick out a generous handful of flaws, but right now, he was more than happy to revel in the feel of this temporary confidence.

 

He'd always been confident with the way he looked. He'd loved his eyes, the dimples in his cheeks when he smiled, and his long legs. He'd embraced his 'flaws'; the faint discolouration on the point of his chin, the chicken pox scar beneath his hairline, the gorgeous birthmark dancing along his hip. He loved them. They were the parts of his body that made him different from anybody else; anybody could have long lashes and curled hair, but these marks made him unique. They gave him confidence and reminded him that he was himself.

 

But then he started modelling. He'd always wanted to be a model. Ever since he was young, he'd held mini catwalks in front of his family. His sister, Misaki, had dressed him up in dresses, jeans, skirts, shorts, and anything else she could find in any family member's wardrobe. Then, when they got older, Misa started studying fashion. Tooru was her model. Whenever she did his makeup, she'd only focus on the eyes. Never did she feel the need to cover anything up.

 

"Because, Tooru," she'd said one day, when Oikawa asked her why she didn't put makeup on his whole face. "Why hide it? People have flaws, and that's okay. That's beautiful. It's what makes us _us_. It doesn't matter if you choose to cover them with makeup or not; in fact, it's that decision which I believe makes people so fascinating. People look stunning with makeup and without makeup. I wear makeup because I think it makes me look nice. But sometimes I don't wear makeup, because I think that makes me look nice, too. Confidence is the best makeup."

 

_Confidence is the best makeup._ He laughed drily. Misaki had always been the most confident one of the pair. She'd been the one who'd helped him to embrace his appearance, helped him to love himself.

 

The screen of his phone lit up from where he'd placed it on the vanity, announcing that he had one new Snapchat from 'hoothoot5'. He grabbed his phone and opened the picture. He was met with Bokuto's golden eyes and wide grin, wearing a pale grey suit with a necklace around his neck, a feather resting between his collarbones. The message attached to the photo read, 'Kazzz, wat r u wearing 2day? U need 2 look hot'.

 

Oikawa rolled his eyes before standing to take a picture of himself in the full-length mirror hanging on the back of his door. He typed out a reply to Koutarou, reading 'I always look hot (▰˘︹˘▰)'.

 

The next reply was almost instant, 'True ∩(︶▽︶)∩'. This was quickly followed by a second message; 'ooh, undo ur top button!! Iwa <3 collarbones'.

 

Oikawa sighed, a light smile playing on his lips. He placed his phone back down on the vanity, returning to the stool, and undid his two top buttons, pulling them open slightly to reveal the soft skin at the hollow of his throat and the sharp curves of his collarbones. He lifted his phone up once more, lifting his hand up in a well-practiced peace sign, before taking a quick selfie. 'Better? ヾ(*´∀｀*)ﾉ', he sent.

 

'Much!! ♪ｖ(⌒ｏ⌒)ｖ♪', came Bokuto's response.

 

For a farm he'd been determined to hate, Karakomasai seemed to be doing him wonders. He'd made more friends than he had in years, and he didn't feel quite so alone. It wasn't a feeling he was used to, but was certainly one he wouldn't mind familiarising himself with. Plus, Iwa-chan was there. There was something about him. Oikawa still couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, but there was certainly something. Never before had Oikawa felt the need to _know someone_. Never before had Oikawa revealed his weak side to somebody. Never before had he trusted someone so wholly. When he'd felt vulnerable, the first person he went to was Iwaizumi.

 

Why?

 

Thinking about it made Oikawa's head hurt. He sighed heavily, a light throbbing beginning in his temples. He massaged them gently before looking at himself in the mirror once more. Deciding a little eyeliner wouldn't go amiss, he plucked the eyeliner pen from the vanity's tiny drawer and proceeded to expertly trace around his eye, the tiny point at the corner adding finesse and elegance. His sister had taught him how to do it perfectly, though the first few times resulted in a pen being thrown across the room when he couldn't get both eyes to match, or he accidentally smudged it. The amount of times he'd poked himself in the eye was unbelievable.

 

He kept adjusting his eyeliner until he was content, smiling at himself in the mirror. He checked his phone; ten to one. Iwa-chan should be picking him up soon. He knew if he went to wait in the living room he'd just start pacing nervously. He instead decided to grasp his hairbrush firmly in his hands- if only to stop himself tapping away nervously on his thigh- and brush his hair. It was fruitless, really, having already grimaced through brushing out the knots earlier that morning. He was only doing it to pass time. His hands were trembling and his heart was beating irregularly behind his ribcage, mimicking that of the anxious bobbing of his leg. He was gnawing his lips raw. He had _never_ been this nervous waiting for somebody to pick him up.

 

Just as he thought he was going to faint from nerves, the shrieking of the doorbell pierced his ears, the shrill sound like a scream as the hairbrush clattered to the vanity. He pushed himself up from the stool, the legs scratching deafeningly against the floor. He adjusted his open collar in the mirror once more before strutting out to the door as carelessly as possible.

 

The door was intimidating. Well, either the door, or the knowledge that there was an incredibly attractive man standing on the opposite side of said door, waiting to pick Tooru up for a- date? He had no idea what this was, but asking straight out was certainly far too demeaning. Instead, Oikawa embraced the moment, resting his hand on the door handle before pulling the door open in one swift movement.

 

Oikawa bowed playfully, gesturing backward into his apartment, "Welcome back to my humble abode, dear Iwa-ch-" Oikawa's breath hitched in his throat as he caught sight of Iwa-chan. His torso was lined with a flawlessly fitted white shirt, the thin material clinging to every bump and ridge of his intricately chiseled abdomen, clinging enticingly to the sharpness of his hipbones and softness of his waist. He wore the buttons done right up to the top, a thin, black tie slung loosely around his neck. In his shirt pocket sat a red carnation, glorious red petals resting directly above Iwaizumi's beating heart, the petals swaying in the light breeze of the hallway as if mimicking the steady thrumming of the delicate organ. A black blazer was slung across his arm. His face was clear of mud and sweat for once, deep brown eyes seeming to bore a hole in the ground, as though the welcome mat had done something to upset him. He looked stunning.

 

But it wasn't his appearance that caught Oikawa off guard- Iwaizumi always looked great, after all. It was the bouquet of snowy white gardenias in his free hand. Oikawa blinked.

 

"Iwa-chan, what-"

 

Iwaizumi dragged his eyes from the floor reluctantly, his expression coated in embarrassment. He thrust the flowers more forcefully at Oikawa, "I went to the flower shop to get some flowers for the happy couple."

 

Oikawa frowned, "So why are you giving them to me?"

 

"Because I then found out that flowers have meanings, and I should probably get some that had something to do with marriage. These were too nice to return though."

 

"You know Iwa-chan," Oikawa smiled slyly, removing the bouquet from Hajime's whitening knuckles. "You don't have to think of an excuse to buy me flowers. I'm flattered!"

 

Iwaizumi scuffed his foot against the floor, shooting a meaningless glare at Oikawa, "Just take the flowers before I hit you over the head with them, Bakakawa."

 

"Rude!" Oikawa giggled, gesticulating for Iwaizumi to enter his apartment as he turned on his heel to find a vase for the flowers, hands shaking. He hadn't realised until now, his false confidence fooling even himself, that his heart was beating so fast he could barely feel its presence. Iwaizumi did things to him that no one else ever had. It was invigorating and terrifying at the same time.

 

Iwaizumi had bought him flowers. _Iwaizumi Hajime had bought him flowers._ Oikawa fought the urge to squeal in overwhelmed excitement. But why had he tried to deny it? Kenma said that Iwaizumi was straightforward, and would just tell Oikawa if he liked him. Maybe the remnants of his old relationship still haunted him. Oikawa furrowed his brows as he entered his kitchen, pulling a vase from one of his cupboards. He filled it with cool water as he called over his shoulder to Iwaizumi, asking if he would like a drink before they left. Iwaizumi politely declined, saying that the traffic was bad and they'd have to leave as soon as possible if they wanted to arrived at the reception on time. He untied the pink bow holding the paper around the flowers before slipping them out and placing them in the vase. He smiled coyly as he rearranged the flowers slightly, gently stroking the petals. He sighed dreamily; he felt like a teenager again, sighing hopefully after people he longed to get to know, becoming lightheaded at the slightest gesture or action.

 

"Do you like them?" Iwaizumi was leant against the doorframe, scratching the back of his neck and seeming very interested in his shoes, eyes occasionally flicking up to meet Oikawa's.

 

"They're perfect, Iwa-chan! They match my kitchen," a sly smile spread itself across Oikawa's lips. "It's almost like you picked them specifically for me."

 

Iwaizumi faltered, "I told you, I bought them for Kiyoko and Yachi!"

 

"And yet they fit so wonderfully in my kitchen."

 

"I can still hit you over the head with them, Shittykawa," Iwaizumi smirked, a hint of playfulness on his voice.

 

"For my knight in shining armour, you're not very nice to me."

 

"Hey! I gave you flowers."

 

"Oh? So you admit that they were for me?"

 

A blush blossomed up Iwaizumi's neck, biting at his earlobes. The imperceptible dusting of freckles across his nose stood out against the red, like tiny meteors caught in the midst of a dazzling red giant.

 

"Shut up, dumbass," the farmhand grumbled, clearly struggling for any other remark. "We need to go. Do you have a flower for your pocket?"

 

Oikawa glanced down at his empty pocket. He looked back up at Iwaizumi, who was removing a small box from his pocket. Oikawa raised a brow in fascination as Iwaizumi held the box, held closed by a dainty little golden ribbon, before tugging on the ribbon to reveal the gift inside. It was a tiny gloxinia, sitting by itself in amongst carefully layered tissue paper, petals lined with white. Oikawa's mouth hung open; what was happening today?

 

"Iwa-chan, did you buy me a flower?"

 

"Only because I knew you wouldn't have enough class to buy one yourself."

 

Oikawa brought his hand to his heart in mock offence, "You wound me! I'm extremely classy. I think I'm the most sophisticated person I know."

 

"Right," Hajime scoffed. "If that's true, you can't know many sophisticated people. C'mere."

 

Tooru did as he was told, taking a step toward Hajime. Iwaizumi removed the flower from the box before taking a step closer to Oikawa, leaving barely inches between them. The kitchen was draped in silence. They were so close. They weren't even touching, yet it seemed the close proximity they shared was enough to show them how flawlessly they were tied together; as Iwaizumi breathed in, Oikawa breathed out; as Iwaizumi blinked, Oikawa blinked; as Iwaizumi's heart contracted, Oikawa's heart expanded. For every push there was a pull. For every touch there was a reason. For every worry there was comfort. The pair were, unbeknown to themselves, inextricably linked.

 

Iwaizumi raised his hands, placing one on Oikawa's chest. Tooru's breath stuttered, and he hoped that Iwaizumi wasn't able to feel the erratic beating of his heart. Iwaizumi's breath was hot against the bare skin of Oikawa's collar bones, vulnerable skin just centimetres away from warm lips, and Oikawa tried his hardest to think of anything else, _anything_ other than how Iwaizumi could easily lay a heated kiss against the tender flesh. Iwaizumi smelt faintly of hair gel and deodorant. It was a delicious concoction of warmth and familiarity, the same smell he'd fallen asleep against little more than a week before. Iwaizumi slipped the flower into Oikawa's pocket, fingers lingering over his pectorals, muscles jumping under the unfamiliar touch of Hajime's warm fingers. Even after the flower was perched neatly in his pocket, mirroring Iwaizumi's own over his heart, neither man made a move to create distance. They stayed, heat swirling together, breaths intermingling, touches shy and chaste. Shivers wracked Oikawa's spine as Iwaizumi's hot breath danced along his bare skin, warm tendrils seeming to dance along his lips teasingly.

 

"Iwaizumi," Oikawa breathed. "Is this something happening?"

 

Shadows danced along Hajime's throat as he swallowed thickly, "You're so pretty."

 

Oikawa smiled, "You think so?"

 

"I do," Iwaizumi's hand left the flower and wandered up to Oikawa's face, thumb stroking lightly along his cheekbone. Oikawa leant into the touch, heat coursing through his body. "I really do. You look good in eyeliner, too."

 

"Iwa-chan..." Oikawa's voice was barely above a whisper as he allowed his eyes to flutter shut. He found himself getting lost in the feeling of Iwaizumi's thumb stroking back and forth along his cheek. The shivers shooting through his spine at the caress of warm breath against his lips were exhilarating- he hadn't felt this alive since his first proper kiss as a seventeen year old boy behind the school bike shed. "Iwa-chan."

 

"Oikawa, you're just- I don't know how to explain it. I like you too much. I told you that, right?"

 

Oikawa peeled his eyes open, "What does that mean?" It was cryptic, ambiguous. It wasn't a simple 'I like you' shared between innocent teenagers or nervous lovers, it was this simplicity garnished with the complications of 'too much'. Too much what? Why was Oikawa _too much?_

 

"I never fall fast. Only once, and then I told myself I'd never let it happen again. Then you arrived and-" Iwaizumi's voice cracked. He looked torn, eyes darting between the flowers pressed between their chests and the gnawed mess of Oikawa's lips. Oikawa raised his hand to place it atop Iwaizumi's, which was rested directly above his heart. The back of his hand was warm yet rough, clearly used to a hard day's work. It trembled slightly beneath Oikawa's soft touch. "You arrived and it scared me."

 

Iwaizumi's eyes were following a set pattern now, hopping from the doe-eyed gaze of Oikawa's long lashed eyes, to the thin, positively kissable lips, which seemed unnaturally pink beneath Hajime's hot breath. Oikawa's heart was pounding and his breathing was coming out ragged. He allowed his eyes to meet Iwaizumi's. They were full of raw emotion, something he'd clearly been storing up for a while.

 

"It still scares me," Iwaizumi croaked. The distance between them was growing steadily narrower. "You're just so-"

 

The pair jumped away from one another as the piercing sound of the _X-files_ theme broke free from Oikawa's blazer pocket. Oikawa fought the urge to throw his mobile at the wall and instead brought it to his ear. Iwaizumi set about readjusting the flowers.

 

"What?" Oikawa snapped. He'd been so close. So, so close to a confession. So, so close to _understanding_.

 

Oikawa felt a pang of guilt in his stomach as Suga's honey-filled voice crackled in the receiver, "Ah, sorry, am I interrupting something?"

 

"Oh, Suga," Oikawa ran a hand back through his hair. "Sorry, no, it's all right, we were just about to leave. Is something wrong?"

 

"Well, sort of," Suga chuckled nervously. There was the sound of violent cursing in the background, which sounded uncannily like Kageyama. "I think Mischief must've caught a whiff of all the food. She's sort of broken out of her field, and we need to get her back before Yachi and Kiyoko arrive, because she's-" his voice grew distant as he turned away from the phone. "Ah, Hinata, put that down!"

 

Iwaizumi was watching Oikawa now, any trace of embarrassment or upset washed away and replaced with curiosity. He was leant back against the counter, arms folded and brows raised as he watched Oikawa.

 

Suga's hurried voice returned to the speaker, "Sorry, I really need to go, Kageyama has just climbed up a tree and Hinata is trying to build a wall of chairs to stop Mischief getting into the marquee. Just hurry, please, we really need- _Nishinoya Yuu stop using Asahi as a human shield!_ "

 

The phone line went dead, nothing but a monotonous whine in Oikawa's ear. He blinked in wonderment before pocketing his phone. Iwaizumi was drumming his fingers against his bicep. He nodded his head toward Oikawa's phone, a question on his face.

 

"I think we need to go," Oikawa moved to exit the kitchen. "Like, right now."

 

Iwaizumi tensed, "Why?"

 

"Mischief."

 

Iwaizumi cursed.

 

Mischief seemed to have a real thing for meddling with Oikawa's romantic endeavours.

 

\-------

 

They made it to the farm in record time. Oikawa was thankful for the precious few days of sun, as it meant he wouldn't have to walk through inches of mud to get to the marquee. It looked stunning under the high afternoon sun. It was pure white, the front open and decorated with a plethora of colourful flowers. There was a long, white carpet rolled out from the front of the marquee down to the open gate of the field. It was lined with flower pots filled with bright flowers. It would have looked perfect, if not for the giant stack of chairs standing in the marquee's opening, and the group of people gathered around a tree and trying to gain the attention of a cow.

 

"Cow bait-kun strikes again," Oikawa muttered as he approached the group, side by side with Iwaizumi, ignoring the pleasurable warmth every brush of skin brought.

 

Iwaizumi elbowed him in the ribs, "Leave him alone."

 

As they approached the group, the situation became clear. Kageyama's long legs were dangling from a branch high up in the tree, whilst the others danced around trying to grab Mischief's attention. Noya was frantically waving a red cloth around, ignoring Asahi's protests that it probably wouldn't work. Daichi was waving a plate of food around. Suga was the only one allowed close to Mischief, yet she barely acknowledged him, instead staring directly at the raven haired man stuck in the tree. Hinata was shouting up to his boyfriend, who didn't seem in the best of moods.

"Do you have anything in your pockets?" Hinata called, hiding from Mischief behind the thick tree trunk.

"I'm not talking to you."

Hinata banged his forehead against the tree, loose bark clinging to his orange curls. He picked a twig up from the floor and threw it at Kageyama, earning him an irritated curl of lips.

"I told you, I wasn't going to abandon you!"

Kageyama glowered at him, lifting his feet up higher so Mischief couldn't eat his shoes, "You built a wall of chairs and blocked yourself in."

"I thought you were inside."

"I was in a tree, dumbass Hinata!"  
"Maybe you should've run inside the marquee then, instead of up a tree, Bakageyama!"

"Oi," Kageyama snarled. "That's easy to say when you weren't the one being chased by a cow!"

Iwaizumi handed his blazer to Oikawa, who had to fight the urge to sniff the fabric, which seemed to be giving off a heavenly scent of cologne. Kageyama and Hinata continued to bicker incessantly.

"Need some help?" Iwaizumi chuckled.

Mischief started at his voice, turning abruptly and almost knocking Suga over. The cow's rounded, dark eyes stared straight at Iwaizumi and Oikawa. She licked her lips. Her front hoof stamped against the ground in a steady rhythm, kicking up dry grass as a low rumble escaped her throat. Everybody had fallen silent, even Kageyama and Hinata's arguing ceasing to exist.

"Guys," Suga's voice was slow and cautious. "You might want to walk away slowly. Whatever you do, don't-"

"Run!" Iwaizumi grabbed Oikawa's hand as Mischief made a sudden move forward. Now really wasn't the best time to marvel over how perfectly Oikawa's hand fit inside Iwaizumi's, calloused palm against frequently hand lotioned skin.

He was being dragged across the field, wind whipping his hair about like a tornado of well-conditioned curls. There was a distant sound of plodding as Mischief followed close behind them. Oikawa's heart was pounding, both from the physical exertion and the feeling of Iwaizumi's skin against his.

"We'd be able to run faster if we weren't holding hands," Oikawa pointed out reluctantly. He was very aware of how steadily Mischief was closing the distance between them.

"I know." He didn't let go. They were running down one of the many paths that connected the farm, hand in hand, hearts racing and lungs working. The heat of the sun made the run even harder, sweat threatening to ruin his blazer. The rushing of blood in his ears and whooshing of wind almost drowned out the cry of other cows in their own fields. They seemed to be cheering for Mischief.

"This way." Iwaizumi tugged Oikawa down a sudden turn. Tooru yelped, almost tripping over his own feet as he was dragged along behind Hajime.

Oikawa cast a glance behind him. The turn hadn't lost Mischief. She remained close behind them, every step bringing her closer.

"Iwa-chan, she's-"

"I know," Iwaizumi was struggling for breath now, the words riding out on a short, sharp exhale. "Get ready to jump."

"What?"

Iwaizumi's response was nothing more than a light squeeze of Oikawa's hand, a gesture that simultaneously sent his heart soaring but also made his stomach drop. He hoped Iwaizumi knew what he was doing. He didn't have time to think before Iwaizumi called for him to jump. Instinct kicked in and Oikawa launched himself from the floor, allowing himself to be dragged over a bush by Iwaizumi.

Time seemed to stop as Oikawa was in the air, still clasping Hajime's hand tightly. The air around him was warm, adding to the uncomfortable sweat prickling his skin. His hair was probably a mess and he hoped his eyeliner hadn't run.

They landed surprisingly softly in the long grass on the other side of the hedge. Tooru was winded slightly. His head thumped against the warmth of Iwaizumi's chest, causing the other man to exhale loudly. It wasn't peaceful for long, though, as a familiar pair of hooves landed in Oikawa's vision. Iwaizumi stiffened on the grass beside him.

"Don't move," he hissed. "She might ignore us."

She didn't. Her footsteps came ever closer, snout resting at Oikawa's stomach. Her breath was hot as she sniffed him. Her nose made its way up his chest, before resting on the flower in his pocket. In one graceless movement, her long tongue slipped from her mouth, stealing the flower from Oikawa's pocket. She then followed the same process with Iwaizumi, before wandering back off into her field, leaving the pair dazed and confused amidst towering glass.

The silence was soon broken by the deeply musical ring of Iwaizumi's laughter. It was an intricate laugh, one of those that starts off low, before slowly becoming more high pitched as he ran out of breath. Oikawa laughed quietly, not wanting to drown out the addictive chime of Iwaizumi's hysteric laughter.

"That was fun," Iwaizumi managed between breaths.

Oikawa narrowed his eyes at Iwaizumi, "Iwa-chan has an odd idea of fun."

He shrugged, "I felt like Indiana Jones."

"I felt more like Han Solo. Minus his blaster. And instead of being chased by stormtroopers we were being chased by a cow."

"That sounds infinitely less epic."

"I'd watch it," Oikawa shrugged.

"You'd watch anything as long as there were aliens in it."

A mischievous grin spread itself across Oikawa's face, "If I'm Han Solo, will you be Leia?"

Iwaizumi screwed up his face in thought, "Will I have to wear her bikini thing?"

"I wouldn't complain."

"I reckon it'd suit me."

"Oh?" Oikawa smirked, rolling to rest on his elbow and look down at Iwaizumi, hands still interlocked carelessly between them. "When did Iwa-chan get so confident?"

Iwaizumi just smirked back, eyes glinting, "I'm a very handsome man, remember?"

Oikawa felt his face flushing once more. He looked away from Iwaizumi, looking for a good retort. Nothing sprung to mind.

"We should get back," Iwaizumi sighed. "Tell them we've dealt with Mischief."

Oikawa nodded. Iwaizumi still didn't let go of his hand as they walked back to the marquee in silence. The cows were silent now, the only sound that of their steady breathing and the chirp of cicadas. The occasional bird squawked as it circled above them. He was vaguely aware of the fact that his hand was probably sweaty after their run. Iwa-chan didn't seem to mind, absently stroking his thumb back and forth over the back of Oikawa's hand. Oikawa sighed contentedly; he didn't ask what this was, too afraid that he'd ruin the simplicity of the gesture. He'd settle for this, for the minute.

When they arrived back at the field, Kageyama was no longer stuck in the tree. Daichi was just taking the last of the chairs back in to the marquee, completely demolishing Hinata's wonderfully constructed wall.

"I didn't mean to shut you out." Hinata prodded Kageyama lightly on the shoulder. The pair were sat next to each other on the floor of the marquee.

"I know," Kageyama shrugged. "I'm sorry I shouted. I thought she was going to eat me. I don't know what it is about me she likes. Animals don't usually like me."

"Maybe you smell like a cow?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Dunno," Hinata rested his forehead on Kageyama's shoulder, voice muffled against his shirt. "It just sounded clever."

The inside of the marquee was breathtaking. Pastel coloured bunting hung from the ceiling, an agglomeration of pinks and purples. Dainty fairy lights rested amongst the bunting, twinkling softly against the roof. There were only ten tables laid out, each with five chairs surrounding it. The tables were spread with pale pink cloths, tiny purple flowers scattered in the centre, a vase of white flowers as the centrepiece. The chairs were draped in a matching pink cloth, tied closed at the back with a lilac ribbon.

"It looks amazing," Oikawa gaped at the scene around him.

Iwaizumi hummed in acknowledgment. It was then, in amongst the calm of the marquee after the storm of Mischief, that Oikawa received one of the biggest shocks he'd ever had. There was the familiar booming of voices as four figures approached the marquee. Kuroo had his arm slung casually around Kenma's shoulders, hair still wild despite any efforts to tame it. Then there was Bokuto. Bokuto, holding hands with a very familiar looking man, with dark curls of hair and mysterious eyes.

Akaashi Keiji smiled at him. Oikawa Tooru wanted to curl up into a ball and hide. How had he not realised?

He felt a little less on edge as Iwaizumi pressed a gentle hand to the small of his back. He gulped and glanced at Iwaizumi, who only gave him a reassuring nod. Oikawa took a deep breath.

He could do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, firstly I want to say thank you so much to everyone for reading this fic, seriously, I hit 5000 reads yesterday, which means a lot!! You always leave amazing comments which put the biggest smile on my face, and I appreciate every one of them ♥
> 
> The title of this chapter is from an amazing song called 'Stars' by The XX. Their music is amazing, I'd seriously recommend it. It's such calm music and so beautifully written. Ooh, also, Damon Albarn (though I think when he was singing it he was singing as Gorillaz) did an amazing cover of 'Crystalised' by The XX, so definitely check out that cover too.
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading!! Next chapter there will be adorable shenanigans including Oikawa and children, dancing, Suga being generally awesome, Akaashi being great and super duper beautiful, Kuroo and Bokuto eating too much, and IwaOi fluff.
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr: http://bealikestowrite.tumblr.com


	7. A Kiss On Your Cheek Or On Your Lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drama occurs.

Chapter 7

It didn't take long to sit everyone down in their correct seats. Yachi and Kiyoko sat at the front table, both looking radiant, Kiyoko in a Western styled dress emblazoned with tiny flowers, and Yachi in a stunning kosode, decorated with an obi. The three tables at the front of the marquee were filled with Karakomasai employees. Two more seated Yachi and Kiyoko's friends from outside of work. The rest of the tables were filled to the brim with family members chatting merrily.

They'd all been instructed to leave their goshugibukuro at the entrance of the marquee. There now stood a mesmerising pile of dainty envelopes wrapped in golden ribbon, each decorated with heartfelt messages. Oikawa was relieved Mischief hadn't eaten his; he'd had to wait in the bank for hours to get new bills.

"They both look gorgeous," Suga sighed wistfully.

Much to Oikawa's relief, he found himself on a different table to Akaashi, and so far hadn't had to interact with him more than the obligatory polite inclination of the head. His name plaque sat him beside Iwaizumi and opposite Suga and Daichi. He was struggling to eat the osekihan in front of him as he was laughing so hard, shoulders shaking so heavily he could barely get any rice to his mouth without dropping it back down into the bowl; Daichi was oblivious.

Suga had spent the whole afternoon dropping obvious hints, only to earn an oblivious hum from his boyfriend. Iwaizumi had already had to pat Oikawa on the back twice after he'd inhaled a piece of rice from laughing so violently. Suga was determined, though.

"You know, I think a beach wedding would be _wonderful_ , don't you, Daichi?"

"It wouldn't have been practical for them, though. They'd get their dresses all sandy."

Oikawa snorted inelegantly. Sawamura Daichi had no clue.

"There'd be a carpet to walk on."

Daichi tapped his chin with his chopstick for a second, humming in thought. Iwaizumi leant back in his chair and watched Daichi intently, waiting for comprehension to hit. Oikawa took this opportunity to lean over and steal an azuki bean from Iwa-chan's bowl, earning him a roll of eyes and tiny, amused smile. Daichi gasped, widening his eyes in sudden realisation. Suga tensed in his seat, supposedly waiting for some sort of request or- proposal. Iwaizumi leant forward in his seat and even Oikawa stopped eating, red rice centimetres from his gaping mouth.

"Suga," Daichi said quietly.

Suga lifted his hand to place it on Daichi's forearm, leaning in close, "Yes, Daichi? Something you'd like to ask?"

"Yeah," Daichi took a deep breath and shifted in his seat so he was facing Suga fully. Suga looked like he was going to faint. Oikawa swallowed in anticipation, waiting for some sort of wildly romantic gesture. Perhaps Sawamura would whisk Sugawara off of his feet and into the sunset, before getting down on one knee in the spot they first met, or where they first kissed. "What if the wind blew? There'd be sand everywhere. Sand in Yachi's hair, sand in my ear, sand in Kuroo's mouth because he can never keep it shut. It would just be inconvenient. I think they made the right choice, using the best farm in the world as their destination!"

Suga dropped his hand from Daichi's arm and slumped back in his chair. He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose whilst Daichi shovelled food into his mouth as quickly as he could. Suga forced a smile onto his face before placing his chopsticks on the table and pushing his chair back. Oikawa sent him a sympathetic glance, only to receive a simple shrug from Suga and a gentle smile.

"I'm going to go and check that Noya is behaving. I don't trust him that close to a candle. I don't think Asahi does, either; it took his eyebrows months to grow back last time."

Daichi swallowed his rice and wiped his mouth with a napkin, blinking up at Suga, "Do you want me to come with you?"

Suga chuckled and brought his hand down to card it through Daichi's hair before kissing him lightly on the forehead, "No, sweetie, it's okay. You just sit here and think about what I've said. Let me know when you work it out."

And with that, Suga span and walked off toward Noya's table. Daichi frowned. Oikawa had to gnaw on his bottom lip so as not to burst out in hysterics at Daichi's complete obliviousness. Iwaizumi's shoulders were shaking slightly as he hid his mouth behind his hand.

"What are you two laughing at?" Daichi demanded.

Iwaizumi choked back a laugh and dragged his finger along the bottom of his eye, scooping up any loose tears. The gentle humming of music was a welcome sound, accompanied by the excited chatter to create a chorus of warmth and love. Oikawa looked around; he couldn't think of the last time he'd been somewhere this welcoming. Yachi sat at the front table flushing merrily, straw blonde hair tied back in the Dutch braid Hinata had promised, embellished with daisies to match her earrings and necklace. She yapped away to Kiyoko, who watched her fiancé- no, _wife_ \- with a look of pure, unadulterated fondness. Their hands were intertwined atop the pastel table cloth, rings glinting under the twinkling fairy lights. 

Kageyama and Hinata were sat on the table in front of them. Hinata had rice dripping down his chin, threatening to spill into his lap. Kageyama was on wiping duty, occasionally reaching over to impatiently remove any loose rice from Hinata's chin, murmuring 'dumbass' at him each time he did so. Hinata just grinned and shovelled more rice recklessly into his mouth, leaving Oikawa thinking that, just maybe, he was doing that on purpose. They were sharing a table with Yamaguchi and Tsukishima, the latter of which seemed less than amused by Hinata's behaviour, claiming that Hinata's little sister probably had better table manners than him. Every comment was met with a disgruntled glare from Kageyama and a piece of rice to the head from Noya, who would consequently earn a light scolding from Suga and a nudge from Asahi. Kuroo was on the table opposite, throwing beans into Bokuto's open mouth. Kenma and Akaashi seemed to have given up trying to stop them, now engrossed in conversation.

"You're so-" Iwaizumi stopped, waving his hands in the air as he tried to think of the right word.

"Clueless?" Oikawa offered.

Hajime nodded, "Yeah, clueless."

"You two are the last people I want to be hearing that from," Daichi pointed at the pair with his chopsticks. "But I still don't know what you're all laughing at."

"You're clueless about being clueless?" Oikawa teased.

"Suga literally couldn't be any more obvious."

"He couldn't be any more obvious even if he broadcasted it while standing at the top of Tokyo Tower."

"With a marching band," Iwaizumi added.

"And a gymnast display."

"A gymnast display that spells it out with their bodies."

" _Woah,_ " Oikawa breathed.

Daichi glowered at the pair of them, eyebrows furrowing. He took a generous gulp of sake. He placed the glass down on the table and clasped his hands in front of him, dark eyes glazing over as he lost himself in thought. There was a rush of hot air against Oikawa's lobe, accompanied by a squeak as Iwaizumi leant over in his chair, bringing his lips just millimetres from Oikawa's ear. Tooru gulped thickly. The way Iwaizumi made Oikawa's stomach flip was ridiculous; it was like being forced onto a rollercoaster, every sharp turn like a stab to his stomach and a punch to his racing heart. Hajime's voice was heart-stopping as he whispered into Oikawa's ear, the perfect amalgamation of rough lows and smooth highs. His breath was hot, causing the hairs on the back of Oikawa's neck to stand up. He hoped he'd been able to compose himself enough that he wasn't flushing in the most unflattering manner. He hoped he's managed to tone it down to an endearing pink, as opposed to an obnoxious red.

"How long until he works it out?"

Oikawa smiled as he swirled his rice with his chopsticks, "What time is it right now?"

Iwaizumi glanced down at the watch sat around his wrist- Oikawa noted that he wore it so the face sat on the inside of his wrist- and glanced back up at Oikawa, oaky eyes seeming remarkably darker under the sparse light of the marquee, veins of green seeming to seep into the warm browns. "Half past two."

"Six."

"You're putting a lot of faith in him," Iwaizumi chuckled, heated breath escaping his lips and dancing along the vulnerable veins at the side of Oikawa's neck, tracing over them as though they were some sort of tightrope hidden beneath soft flesh. Oikawa had to grip tightly onto his chopsticks so as not to fall off of his chair at their closeness. "I reckon nine."

"What do I get if I win?"

"What do you want?"

Oh. _Oh_. There were so many things he wanted from Iwaizumi Hajime. He wanted to feel the soft fluff of his hair between his fingers, wanted to watch it flop back into place as he ran his hand over the tufts and spikes, wanted to fiddle with the short hairs at the nape of his neck, maybe even lay a few kisses there for good measure. He wanted to use his fingers to trace the wide plain of his back, feel the rise and dip of shoulder blades beneath his inquisitive fingers. He wanted to place his fingers on those thin lips, before allowing them to traverse the length of his cheekbones and down along his jawline, tracing the coarse stubble that complimented his features so well. He wanted to watch his eyes fall shut as he pulled him forward by the shirt and pressed their lips together softly. He wanted so, _so_ much from Iwaizumi Hajime. He could never ask for it all, he knew; he was too nervous. Relationships weren't his thing. _Gentleness_ wasn't his thing, yet everything he wanted to do with Iwaizumi was all soft and fluffy. It was both sickening and exhilarating.

"'Scuse me?"

There was a soft tug at Oikawa's blazer. He blinked himself back from his daydream and forced himself to tear his eyes from Iwaizumi. Turning in his seat, he was faced with a beautiful pair of azure eyes behind pink glasses. The little girl was adorable. She can't have been much older than seven, her head barely surpassing the table's height. She was a dainty little thing, with a cascade of inky black hair falling down to the middle of he back, done up in corkscrew curls that bounced as she shuffled in her spot, fiddling nervously with her tiny fingers. Little plastic rings, the sort one would get from a toy dispenser, ran the length of her fingers. Atop her mass of curls sat a sparkling tiara, accompanied by a matching necklace and clip-on earrings. Her eyes were lined with long, dark lashes and her pale skin was scattered with little freckles.

There was no doubt that this little girl was some relative of Kiyoko's. She looked up at Oikawa and gnawed on her bottom lip, rocking back and forth on her feet. Oikawa smiled and leant forward in his seat so he was at the little girl's level, making it easier for her to talk to him without craning her neck.

"Oh, I didn't know a princess was coming today!" Oikawa pretended to bow to her. "Oikawa Tooru, at your service."

The little girl hid her mouth behind her hand as she giggled, a tiny, mouse-like noise, "I'm not a princess! I'm just Mei."

"You must be a princess! Princess Mei-chan, right? How can I, a humble civilian, help you today?"

Mei wrung her wrists and adjusted the rings on her fingers. Oikawa's distraction hadn't worked for long; she'd reverted back into her shy self quickly. Oikawa waited patiently for Mei to find her confidence; he knew from experience that forcing a shy child was never the best idea. Patience was the best action. She blinked up at his smiling face and, as if deciding he was friendly enough, continued quietly. Oikawa had to strain to hear her, her voice like tiny bells almost drowned out by the ambient music and continuous yammering.

"I," she took a deep breath, squeezing her eyes tightly and clasping her hands together. "I wanna be a singer when I grow up, b-but Aiko says there are lots of c-cameras if you get super famous, and cameras scare me... B-but auntie Kiyoko said you were good with cameras because you're a model and stuff. So she told me to talk to you."

"A singer, huh?"

She nodded, curls bobbing animatedly, "Yeah, with my friends. We're gonna be really, really, really, _really_ famous!"

Oikawa chuckled, "Well, you've certainly got confidence in your dream, Mei-chan. But you're right, cameras can be scary. Do you want to know what I do sometimes, if I'm scared of a camera?"

She nodded, fiddling with the skirt of her dress, swishing it about her ankles. The skirt was decorated with dainty diamante flowers, shimmering under the dim light of the marquee. Her shoes, which peeked out from beneath the hem of her skirt each time she moved it around her ankles, was decorated with two elaborate butterflies, pink and blue sequins coating the wings.

"I imagine the photographer is wearing a silly costume."

Mei blinked, "Like, dressed as a penguin or something?"

"Mm," Oikawa rested his chin in his hand as he grinned down at her. "Just like that. Last time, I imagined the photographer was dressed up as an egg."

Mei snorted, then covered her mouth in surprise. She brought her hands down to her skirt and dipped in a curtsy, coils of hair just brushing the floor. She stood up and gave Oikawa a dazzling smile, "Thank you very much! You are Princess Mei's favourite civilian."

"I'm honoured."

Mei sent him one last grin. One of her front teeth were missing. She gave Oikawa a wave before turning quickly, hair smacking Oikawa in the face, and ran over to talk to Yachi and Kiyoko. She babbled away to the pair, and Kiyoko caught Oikawa's eyes, before mouthing a 'thank you'. Tooru just smiled and nodded.

He sat back in his chair and resumed eating his rice. It took him a little while to realise that the pair still sat at the table had fallen into silence, both pairs of eyes trained on him intently. Oikawa looked up from his bowl to find the two men staring at him in bewilderment. Daichi seemed bemused, but Iwaizumi seemed, well, _flustered_. His lips were parted, revealing straight white teeth. His eyes were unblinking, caught in some sort of intrigued wonderment. Was that a blush dusting the high curve of his cheekbones?

"What?" Oikawa asked around a mouthful of rice. "Iwa-chan, are you _blushing?_ "

Iwaizumi almost choked on the breath he was taking, "Shut up, dumbass. I'm not blushing. It's hot in here."

"Sorry, should I leave?"

Iwaizumi sent him daggers. He was about to retort when Daichi spoke up, "You're pretty good with kids." 

"Hm? Oh, I guess so. I volunteer at my nephew's volleyball group. Have done for years, now."

"You play volleyball?"

Oikawa nodded. He'd played it for as long as he could remember. He got into it at a young age, not long after his sister had joined the hockey team, and had mastered it. That was the thing about Oikawa; when he started doing something, he was going to keep doing it until he had perfected it. He stayed outdoors for hours, bouncing a volleyball against the wall. He'd get his dad to throw the ball to him sometimes, just so he could try hitting it back. He didn't start practicing as a setter until Misa got her first and only boyfriend, Yuki, who played as a wing spiker on his own volleyball team in high school. Accompanied by his guidance, Oikawa spent hours practicing. Naturally, he joined the volleyball team in high school, and instantly found himself as a setter. He was determined to perfect his technique. He spent hours at night watching videos to improve, hours per day eradicating any flaws from his jump serve, drove himself to exhaustion trying to drive his team to victory.

"Maybe we could play someday. Pretty much everybody on this farm plays. We could host some sort of tournament. We'd have to put Mischief on the other side of the field though, she has a tendency to eat volleyballs, and- _oh my god_."

Oikawa smirked, "What?"

Daichi rested his forehead in his hand, "If Suga wanted to go to the beach, why didn't he just ask?"

Iwaizumi snorted. His head collided with the table as his shoulders shook with laughter, breaths coming fast against the tablecloth. Oikawa, once again, felt warmth flower in his stomach at the musical noise of Hajime's laughter. His eyes lingered over the undulating ripple of muscles beneath his shirt, following the way his shirt stretched against shoulder blades and wide shoulders. He wanted to reach out and touch. He just wanted to be closer. He just wanted to _hold_. He wanted something that was his. Something he wouldn't lose. Something that didn't want to be lost. He lost so many things. Iwaizumi was the last thing he wanted to lose.

Suga returned to his seat. Despite dropping some more blatantly obvious hints, Daichi still didn't figure it out. Suga even went so far as to tell Daichi that he'd _love_ a new ring, but Daichi had misunderstood, and simply thought Suga meant a rubber ring for swimming in the sea. It seemed as though Suga had given up by that point. Dish followed after dish, each plate elaborately decorated with the most splendid food. Rice, fish, a plethora of elegant side dishes, followed by the most tremendous wedding cake.

It was three tiers high, and Suga couldn't have been more proud. He said he'd love a cake like that someday. Daichi pointed out that they were having one now, so he could live his dream. Suga looked fit to walk out of the marquee and scream in frustration. The cake was spread evenly with white icing, fluffy piping edging each tier. Strawberries were perched on the bottom tier, edible butterfly shapes on the second tier, and edible petals on the third. Suga had also shaped a marvellous heart from sugar, which Asahi had been trusted to decorate. It seemed almost a shame to cut into it. It didn't seem such a shame when slices started to be handed out. Oikawa could've eaten the rest of the cake to himself, if he'd been given the chance.

The cake was followed by speeches. Daichi teared up, though he tried to hide it by pretending to choke on a piece of cake. They were beautiful. It was obvious that the pair were deeply in love. Yachi spoke about how they met. She'd started at the farm and been stunned by this fantastically attractive woman. On finding out that she was the farm's designated mechanic, she had gone out of her way- much to Daichi's despair- to break everything that she could. She'd asked Hinata for help one time, when she hadn't been strong enough to pull something out of the tractor's engine. That was when Daichi drew the line and told Kiyoko that she had to ask Yachi out, before she ended up completely destroying the tractor.

Kiyoko spoke about how much her wife had changed her life. She spoke about how adorable she was, and how happy she always was. She spoke about how comfortable Yachi made her feel as, when coming out as gay, she had always feared judgement. Daichi began to wipe his eyes at this point. Despite his protests, Suga rubbed his back gently and rested his head on his shoulder, turning every so often to lay a kiss to his jaw. Kiyoko was overjoyed that she'd been able to find a wife who was so loving.

After the speeches, the dancing began. Kiyoko and Yachi went first. It was a truly mesmerising performance. Kiyoko rested her hands on Yachi's waist and Yachi slung her arms around Kiyoko's neck, smiling up with unadulterated fondness. They began to sway across the makeshift dancefloor, a blur of snow white, straw gold and midnight black. Kiyoko's dress swirled around the pair like the swoop of a bird's wing, her hair flowing like fallen crow's feathers. She was like something fantastical, a fairy queen of sorts, with her encapsulating eyes and full lashes, her dark hair and thin lips, glasses exaggerating the curl of her lashes. If Kiyoko was a fairy queen, then Yachi must've been some sort of fairy princess, with golden locks tied into a braid and embellished with flowers, slender face blushing, lips parted into a look of fascination.

Family members started to join the dance next. Shortly after this, Bokuto followed up with Akaashi. Kuroo had to prod Kenma a little bit before he agreed, though Kenma just rested his feet on top of Kuroo's and let him do all of the work as he gripped onto his shoulders. Kageyama claimed that he was completely unable to dance, and so Hinata agreed to stay at the table as long as he got to eat the rest of his boyfriend's cake slice. Suga managed to drag a reluctant Daichi up to the dancefloor. It could only be assumed by Daichi's blush that Suga was flirting mercilessly, sending sly smiles up through his ash blonde mop of hair.

Oikawa glanced over at Iwaizumi. That was a mistake. His chin was rested in his hands as he leant forward on the table, strong fingers cradling equally strong jawbones. Lightly chapped lips were parted in a smile against his white teeth, light dimples in his cheeks exaggerated by the fluorescent light of the fairy lights. He had allowed his tie to fall loose. That had almost made Oikawa faint. The knot now sat further down against his chest, allowing his two top buttons to fall loose. This gave full view of the entrancing dip of collarbones and deep hollow of his throat. Each time Hajime swallowed, his throat jumped, strong muscles twitching. His eyes seemed to sparkle, colours brighter behind the darkness of his curled lashes.

"I'm gonna go get a drink," Oikawa stood from his chair. "Want anything?"

Iwaizumi turned his head in his hands, "Nah, I'm good. I've got to drive you home, remember?"

Oikawa hadn't forgotten. It was some sort of strange novelty, the idea that Iwaizumi knew where he lived. Iwaizumi knew where he lived, and had offered to go out of his way to both pick Oikawa up and drop him back home. Oikawa had no idea where Iwa-chan lived, he realised. Did he live with anyone? Did he have any pets? Was he tidy? Did he have a good taste in decor? Oikawa felt as though he needed to make it a mission to go to Iwaizumi's place, just to find answers to all of these questions.

"Be right back," Oikawa chirped.

Iwaizumi just smiled and nodded before turning his attention back to the coordinated swaying of the dancers. Oikawa made his way over to the back table, which had been laid out generously with extra drinks and snacks. There was a small group of children at the far end of the table, all helping themselves to plate after plate of different sweets and desserts. A familiar head of black ringlets was a part of the crowd. Mei gave him a meek little wave. Oikawa wiggled his fingers in a responding wave.

He was just taking a sip of his drink when there was a tap on his shoulder. Oikawa was met with a pair of dark eyes. Akaashi Keiji always looked stunningly ethereal. Today was no exception. His hair, dark rolling curls like a turbulent ocean, framed his slender face, waves licking his ears and jaw. His face wasn't one full of angles and rugged handsomeness, like those seen on Iwaizumi and Daichi, it was one of soft curves and dainty precision. His lips were pink and thin. His gentle features gave him an almost angelic appearance.

"Oikawa-san, it's good to see you again," Akaashi smiled. That made his eyes sparkle and crinkle at the sides, somehow making him even more attractive.

"I didn't realise you were dating Bokuto." It wasn't the politest response, no, but Oikawa had a habit of spitting out the first thing that came to his head. Fortunately for him, Akaashi's patience was generous.

Akaashi laughed, "I thought as much when we arrived today. You looked shocked. I thought Bokuto had told you."

"It never really came up. I knew he was dating a model. I just didn't think it would be you, of all people." Tooru took another sip of his drink. Kenma had deserted Kuroo on the dancefloor, now sitting next to Hinata, who was babbling away with a mouthful of cake. Kuroo was instead dancing with Bokuto, which appeared to be a combination of over-dramatic dips and twirls, with exaggerated staring into one another's eyes.

"How are you? You know, after-"

"I'd rather not talk about it." Oikawa snapped.

Akaashi just nodded, "I understand."

Oikawa instantly regretted losing his temper. Akaashi was only trying to be nice. Maybe that was something he should try more often, instead of snapping at people who he considered to be his opponent, or simply someone who had irked him at one point. Oikawa Tooru was well known for holding grudges.

"Sorry," Oikawa rubbed the back of his neck. "I just- things haven't been going well for me lately, in the modelling industry." He laughed drily.

"If it makes you feel any better, they all loved you, that day. There were a few really good shots they could use. They're considering you for a future shoot."

Oikawa snapped his head around to look at Akaashi, who was shaking his head as he watched Kuroo and Bokuto spin each other around on the dancefloor, tripping over their own feet.

"No horses next time."

Akaashi exhaled a laugh, "No, no horses."

"Thank god," Oikawa sighed. "So, you and Bokuto? How'd that happen?"

A small smile graced Akaashi's lips. He lightly fingered the bracelet hanging around his slender wrist. It was a black leather bracelet, clipped on the underside with a silver hook. There were several charms on the bracelet, each one a different owl. One was a stunning silver with the most remarkable details; carefully engraved feathers and emerald eyes. The one next to it wasn't incredibly dissimilar, though its eyes were amber gems instead. The crowd of silver owls glistened as they caught light. Oikawa didn't fail to notice one particular charm, where two owls appeared to be joined together, holding a heart between them, two letters embedded in the silver; A and B.

"We met at a bar. I went there after a shoot with some friends to celebrate, and Bokuto and Kuroo happened to be there."

Oikawa held his hands out in front of himself to inspect his nails; he scrunched up his nose as he noticed some of the paint was chipping off already. "And Kuroo tried to advertise Bokuto to you? Awfully."

Akaashi breathed out a laugh, "Not yet. Bokuto just stared at me for ages. It was rather unnerving, actually."

Oikawa snorted, "Ah, Bokuto, a man of true grace and suave, just as I'd imagined. Maybe I should give him a lesson in flirting?"

"I doubt that would help very much, he's terrible at flirting. It's quite endearing." A light flush tinted Akaashi's porcelain cheeks.

"Ah, Akaashi-kun, you like the awkward type?"

Akaashi sent him a sly smile, "And you like the stoic type, I understand. He's looking at us."

Oikawa spared a glance Iwaizumi's way. He was watching them warily, eyes focused on Oikawa, worry hinted by the way his eyes narrows and brows furrowed. His green shattered eyes met Oikawa's own, raising a questioning brow and nodding lightly at Akaashi. Oikawa replied with a perfected peace sign and wink. Iwaizumi visibly relaxed, settling back in his chair before returning his attention to the dancefloor.

"He cares about you," Akaashi noted.

"I think he's more worried about me misbehaving."

"I'm not so sure," Akaashi tucked a loose wave behind his ear. "Iwaizumi likes a pretty man, after all."

"So does Bokuto, by the looks of things."

Akaashi's lips quirked upward, "You're too kind, Oikawa-san."

"I still think my backside is better than yours, though." He patted his rear, as if to prove a point. Akaashi glanced down before nodding his agreement. They spoke for a little longer; about the difficulties of modelling, trying to control Kuroo and Bokuto, and how to deal with wavy hair. It was nice. Akaashi was nice.

They spoke until there was a light tug on Oikawa's blazer. He looked down to be met with a pair of familiar blue eyes. Mei shot Akaashi a quick look before instinctively stepping to hide behind Oikawa's leg.

"Princess Mei? What's wrong?" Oikawa bent down slightly so he was closer to her level, able to hear her gentle voice above the thrumming of music.

She stood on her tiptoes as she spoke, "Why aren't you dancing with your prince?"

She was pointing a tiny finger at Iwa-chan, whose eyes had lingered over to him once more, quickly darting away as he realised he'd been spotted. Oikawa ran his hand back through his hair. Why wasn't he dancing with his prince?

"I don't think Iwa-chan is my-"

"That's not what Yachi said!" Mei's face was painted with an expression surprisingly intimidating for a seven year old, lips curling in a pout as she rested her hands pointedly on her hips. She loured at him and huffed. "She said that Iwa-Iwai-" she stamped her foot in frustration as she stumbled over her words. It was adorably terrifying. "She said he's your prince and you two want to dance together but you won't because you're too scared. Is it because you're just a civilian thingy?"

Oikawa blinked. Somehow, a girl barely a third of his height and age had summed up his dilemma in a few words. Iwa-chan was a prince, noble, kind and firm. Oikawa was but a mere civilian, a peasant, even; meaningless, selfish, awful. Iwaizumi was too good for him. He could never have him. It was a dream, a farfetched fantasy lingering so tantalisingly close, yet not close enough, hanging just beyond his reach so that his fingertips brushed it, torturously close but _not close enough_. He was stupid, thinking he deserved someone like Iwaizumi Hajime. Why did he want him so badly? He'd never wanted anyone so badly. He'd never craved anything other than physical contact, but this was so much more. This was a desire for affection, a longing for understanding, a deep-rooted want for shared emotions. This wasn't a need for a temporary physical connection; this was a yearning for a deeper emotional connection.

It was daunting.

There was warmth beside him as Akaashi moved to look down at Mei, a tender smile on his face as he bent down slightly, complimenting the girl on her tiara. Akaashi's eyes glinted cunningly as he addressed her, "As a princess, people have to do what you say, don't they?"

Mei's eyes fluttered. She gnawed on her lips as she tried to find meaning behind Akaashi's words. Her eyes glinted as she finally understood, beaming at Akaashi. She clapped merrily before grabbing Oikawa's hand, tugging him gently. She wasn't particularly strong, but Oikawa couldn't bring himself to shake her hand off, instead allowing her to babble merrily as she slowly led him over to Iwaizumi. Tooru shot Akaashi a look over his shoulder, to which Akaashi replied with a smug smile and an innocent wave. Well, he supposed this was one way to get a dance without directly asking.

"Ahem," Mei cleared her throat to grab Iwaizumi's attention. He turned in his seat, eyes widening in interest. "I, Princess Mei, order you to dance with Oikawa-san."

Oikawa expected an instant rejection. He expected Iwaizumi to start laughing, to not take it seriously and walk off telling Oikawa how damn stupid he was. But he didn't. He pushed himself up from his chair, taking a step toward the pair. Oikawa gulped, the intensity of Iwaizumi's eyes setting his heart soaring and his stomach flipping.

"Alright," Iwaizumi ran his hand back through his hair. He turned to Mei and smiled, "Anything for a princess." Oikawa wasn't sure whether he was talking about him or Mei at that point.

Mei handed Oikawa's hand over to Iwaizumi, who made no hesitation in interlocking their fingers. The familiar press of Iwaizumi's calloused palm against his own soft one was a welcome pressure. Oikawa's heart fluttered. This was certainly a feeling he could get used to. He glimpsed at Mei, who was rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet with a triumphant look on her face. She curtseyed once and quickly ran back over to her friends once more. Iwaizumi dragged him toward the dancefloor, the strobe lights shining upon Hajime's face, giving his eyes the most enchanting sparkle and adorning the tips of his hair with a golden light liquid. The shadows cast across his face seemed to heighten the darkness of his stubble and the sharp shape of his jawline and cheekbones.

As soon as they found space on the floor, Iwaizumi dropped Oikawa's hand. He was just about to start lamenting the loss of contact when two hands rested tentatively at his waist. If his heart wasn't racing before, then it _definitely_ was now. Iwaizumi was looking determinedly up at him, face slightly contorted as though forcing himself not to look away, begging himself to keep eye-contact despite the overwhelming urge to turn and hide his blush in his shoulder. Oikawa's breath hitched in his throat as he caught the intensity in Iwaizumi's eyes, green spikes splintering warm brown. There was something deeply intimate about the look. Oikawa couldn't help but feel jealousy bubbling in the pit of his stomach at the thought of anyone else being the object of this gaze.

"Is this all right?" Iwaizumi asked, bashfulness coating his words.

Oikawa smiled playfully, attempting to maintain the veneer of assuredness, regardless of the fact he felt like melting into a puddle at their new found close contact. He brought his hands to rest on Iwaizumi's shoulders, swallowing thickly at the feeling of surging muscles beneath his palms, the warmth of Iwaizumi sending shockwaves down his arms and making his thoughts cloudy.

"It's far more than alright, Iwa-chan," Oikawa breathed, voice barely audible above the collaboration of joyous voices and continuous music.

At his words, Hajime allowed his hands to rest more firmly on Oikawa's waist. The feeling of Iwaizumi's fingers against the vulnerable flesh of his lower back made his stomach knot uncomfortably and his heart pound mercilessly against his already battered ribcage. He felt Iwaizumi pull him in closer by his waist, pressing their chests firmly together. Oikawa could feel his own erratic heartbeat mirrored by Iwaizumi's.

The pair started swaying to the music, a slow and steady beat pulsating through their veins. Neither was a particularly skilled dancer, Iwaizumi too stiff in his movements and Oikawa too uncoordinated. They tried to match the dance everybody else was doing, and after stepping on each other's toes countless times, instead just decided to cling to one another and rock side to side.

"Iwa-chan is an awful dancer," Oikawa teased, prodding his partner playfully on his chest before returning it to its rightful position upon his shoulder.

Iwaizumi squeezed his waist in retaliation, causing Oikawa to squawk inelegantly and squirm away from the touch. He pouted. Iwaizumi huffed and rolled his eyes, "I didn't have to dance with you, y'know."

"Yes you did, you were ordered by a princess! If you refused her order then we had full rights to feed you to Mischief."

"She wouldn't eat me," he stated. "You'd probably taste better."

"Oh, Iwa-chan, you flatter me!"

Iwaizumi squeezed Oikawa's side again, "That wasn't a compliment, dumbass."

"Remember my last shoot?" Oikawa asked. Iwaizumi nodded, examining Oikawa's face cautiously, as though looking for some sign of upset on Oikawa's face. He'd been extremely vigilant since the shoot, always checking to make sure Tooru wasn't beating himself up over it. "Akaashi said they liked me."

"That doesn't surprise me. You always doubt yourself, Trashykawa, even though I tell you not to," a smug grin erupted across Iwa-chan's face. "Say _Iwa-chan was right_."

"Iwa-chan is _mean_."

Hajime squeezed Oikawa's waist once more, fingers digging in and tickling the slightly pudgy flesh there from his last few weeks of minimal exercise and lots of self pity food. Oikawa squealed and tried to wriggle away from the motion, only to find himself rooted in place by the shorter man's strong grip. Oikawa tried to push Iwaizumi away by the shoulders, only to find the fingers on his waist tightening. They wiggled against his skin, eliciting a hugely unflattering snort from his nose.

"I-Iwa-chan, stop, that _tickles!_ " Oikawa managed between breathless laughter, trying to bat Iwaizumi's hands away.

__"Say it," Iwaizumi demanded, amused chortles bubbling from his lips. It was a mesmerising noise of bell chimes, music to Oikawa's ears. "Say I was right!"_ _

__"Alright, alright!" The movements of Hajime's fingers slowed at Oikawa's waist. Oikawa took a deep gulp of breath as though he'd just come up from being underwater for a considerable amount of time. "Iwa-chan was right," he paused for a minute, eyes skimming over the expression of pride painted on his face, before adding a muttered, "For once."_ _

__Iwaizumi grimaced, "Close enough."_ _

__As they continued to dance- _sway clumsily_ \- Oikawa felt his confidence spike. Iwaizumi made him confident. Maybe it was through the gentle touches, the careful press of his palm against the thin material of his shirt, the way his thumb stroked back and forth over the bump of Oikawa's waist, a motion that made his heart stutter and his spine shiver. Maybe it was the way he looked at Oikawa as if there was nothing else he'd rather look at. Maybe it was the press of their chests together, synchronised, one falling as the other rose, one heart compressing as the other expanded, beating harshly together through the measly layer of clothing and skin._ _

__Tooru allowed his hands to wander and fulfil a fantasy he'd been having for weeks. Soft hair tickled the tips of his fingers as he knotted them in the hair at the nape of Iwaizumi's neck and, if he wasn't very much mistaken, the other man swallowed thickly and let out a shuddering sigh. His eyelids fluttered, lashes kissing his rosy cheeks. He did well to fabricate a sense of composure- better than Oikawa would have, anyhow._ _

__"Akaashi said they were thinking of offering me another job," Oikawa said, twirling hair around his fingers._ _

__"That's good," Iwa-chan replied. "I told you they liked you."_ _

__"How can you always be so sure?"_ _

__Iwaizumi shrugged, "I'm always right, remember?"_ _

__Oikawa huffed a breath, "Iwa-chan is mean _and_ arrogant! And that's a rubbish answer, anyway. Could it be that you're trying to cover some secret power you have? Can you see the future?"_ _

__"No, but I can see you."_ _

__Oikawa blinked, eyebrows meeting in a frown. What did that mean? I can see you. Hajime read the bewildered expression on Oikawa's face. His mouth opened and closed, no words coming out for a second, before turning his face away and staring adamantly at the floor. Oikawa leant over to force his face into Iwaizumi's vision. Hazel eyes blinked at him between long lashes and pinkened cheeks._ _

__"Iwa-chan," Oikawa sing-songed, dragging out the last syllable as though he'd never get tire of the way it rolled off of his tongue. "Don't get all embarrassed on me now!"_ _

__Iwaizumi's lips parted as he blinked at Oikawa in a bemused manner, "How can you doubt yourself so much?"_ _

__Oikawa cocked his head in question, "What do you mean?"_ _

__"What do you like about yourself, Oikawa?"_ _

__Tooru tilted his head and gnawed on his lips. He liked his extensive alien bobble head collection. He liked his taste in music. But Iwaizumi wasn't looking for an answer like that, he knew. Hajime was looking for something deeper, something much more meaningful._ _

__"I'm tall," Oikawa decided._ _

__"You're tall?"_ _

__Tooru nodded, "Yeah. And my nails look great in pink."_ _

__"That's a start, I suppose."_ _

__"A start?"_ _

__Iwaizumi's lips quirked, "You're a challenge, Oikawa Tooru, but I'm going to make you realise that there's a lot more to you than your height and great nails."_ _

__"More?"_ _

__Iwaizumi's grip on Oikawa's waist tightened, circular motion of his thumbs stopping. The look in his eyes was intense, blackness of his pupils seeming to leak into the woodlandesque irises like the encroaching darkness of night. Oikawa's mouth was dry, every gulp like sandpaper in his throat._ _

__"Oikawa, if you could see what I see when I look at you, then-"_ _

__Iwaizumi never finished the sentence as the music suddenly changed. The once calm melody had been completely obliterated by the heavy bass of this new party song, one Oikawa had heard countless times in downtown clubs late at night. The perpetrators of the drastic music change stood triumphantly at the edge of the dancefloor, black bedhead and white spikes bobbing comically as they performed some sort of flamboyant dance. Kuroo and Bokuto were going to feel Oikawa's wrath, he'd make sure of it._ _

__Iwaizumi dropped his hands from Oikawa's waist and took a step away from him, rubbing the back of his neck. Oikawa felt vulnerable away from the warmth of Iwa-chan. He'd grown accustomed to being held, had felt content embraced in Iwa-chan's delectable warmth. But now he was stepping further and further away, as though he were trying to form some sort of rift between them. He didn't meet Oikawa's eyes as he muttered some excuse about needing to speak to Daichi for a bit. He then turned and strode off, leaving Oikawa standing alone in the middle of the dancefloor._ _

__"Sorry," a monotonous voice arrived at his side. "I couldn't distract him with food anymore."_ _

__Oikawa looked down at Kenma, who looked dashing in a shirt with his sleeves rolled to the elbows and simple black trousers. His hair, done by Kuroo, was half done up in a bun, decorated with a little black cat hair accessory. Akaashi accompanied him, arms crossed over his front._ _

__"That's alright," Oikawa smiled. "Things worked out pretty well, actually."_ _

__Things worked out pretty well, because now Oikawa was certain that this wasn't just a silly crush. This was so much more. It was terrifying, yet oh so exciting. It was new, it was untouched territory, it was undiscovered land. He was more than happy for Iwaizumi to help him discover it._ _

__\----_ _

__Several hours later, Oikawa found himself in the midst of a very intense game of truth or dare. They were at Kuroo and Kenma's place. Kiyoko and Yachi had left the reception with their family members to continue their own celebrations elsewhere._ _

__The apartment was just as Oikawa had expected. The television was surrounded by games consoles and video games, piled on top of each other rather precariously. The walls were decorated with a mixture of music posters and video game promotional posters. A cat bed was pushed off to the corner of the room, though it didn't seem very used, as Kenma explained the cats preferred to share the big bed. There was a collection of cat toys, ranging from a scratching post to a mouse plushy. And, as promised by Kuroo, the kitchen did have a lovely aroma of apple, and a matching green tinted wall._ _

__They were now all sat around the living room. Kenma was squashed between Akaashi and Hinata, whilst also finding himself trapped beneath two needy cats, both desperate for his undivided attention. The black cat, Spyro, was nuzzling his face in Kenma's leg. The golden speckled cat, Crash, seemed content with inspecting all of the visitors. Kuroo and Bokuto were squeezed onto a seat meant for one person, occasionally pushing each other off in their constant battle for more space. Kageyama sat on another armchair. This left Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Daichi, and Suga all on the floor, sharing a pile of blankets Kenma had laid out for them. Suga was perched in Daichi's lap, the latter's chin perched on his shoulder._ _

__"Kageyama-kun, truth or dare?" Kuroo called, barely sat on the chair as Bokuto attempted to shove him off._ _

__"Truth." Kageyama didn't even hesitate. That was probably due to the fact that Hinata had just asked for a dare and had been told to drink hot sauce. His face was still bright red. Kageyama didn't want to face that sort of challenge._ _

__"How old were you when you had your first kiss?"_ _

__At this question, the tips of Kageyama's ears burnt bright red. He fiddled with the fabric of his trousers and tapped his foot against the floor in a nervous beat. The nervous darting of his eyes made it obvious that he was painfully aware of everybody staring at him, particularly the wide-eyed gaze from Hinata._ _

__"Nineteen."_ _

__"Wasn't that when you started dating Hinata?" Suga asked._ _

__Kageyama looked as though he wouldn't mind it if the chair swallowed him whole. Hinata jumped up from his chair, startling the cats cuddled into Kenma's lap. One leapt onto Kuroo for protection, resulting in him tumbling to the floor with a cry. Bokuto took this opportunity to claim the whole chair to himself, spreading himself wide so as to take up the most space possible. Hinata pointed accusingly at Kageyama, mouth gaping in disbelief. Kageyama stared up through his black hair, blue eyes full of terror._ _

__"What are you pointing at, dumbass?" Kageyama tried to feign confidence, failing as his voice cracked slightly._ _

__" _I was your first kiss?_ " Hinata's voice had risen dramatically. Clearly, this was a topic the boundaries of their relationship hadn't quite crossed yet. Hinata didn't lower his hand until Kageyama swatted it away._ _

__"It's no big deal," Kageyama muttered. Hinata beamed and threw himself at his boyfriend. Kageyama cried out as Hinata crushed him under his weight. He tried to tug Hinata off by the back of his shirt, to no avail._ _

__"That's sweet," Daichi commented._ _

__"You're only saying that because I was your first kiss."_ _

__Everyone simultaneously turned their heads at Suga's words. Daichi was cursing into Suga's shoulder, whilst Suga smiled triumphantly. This was his revenge for Daichi's painful ignorance. Kuroo, now on the floor with a cat in his lap, leant forward in interest._ _

__"How old were you, Sawamura-san?"_ _

__Daichi peeled his face from Suga's shoulder, lips curling in a glare. Kuroo didn't even shy away, probably used to the frequent glares he received from his boss. However, Daichi couldn't refuse the insistent gazes from everyone else in the room, all desperate to know more details. He sighed, forehead thumping down into Suga's shoulder. Suga nudged him, prompting him to spill the details._ _

__"I just turned seventeen."_ _

__The simple statement turned into a long, elaborate story. Everyone gathered in the room listened intently, eager to know of the flourishing romance between Sugawara Koushi and Sawamura Daichi._ _

__Suga had been a stable boy at the farm from the age of sixteen. Daichi's dad had offered him a part-time job, and Suga found himself cleaning stables and horses, as well as riding and training. Suga had been riding from a young age anyway, so already knew the tricks. Daichi just had to take one look before he knew he was done for._ _

__A beautiful boy, with flowing ash blonde hair and deep brown eyes, a radiant smile and dazzling personality; Daichi knew he wouldn't be able to resist. Sugawara Koushi couldn't be any more his type, with his slender build and delicately positioned beauty mark. Daichi kept finding ridiculous reasons to talk to Suga. Apparently, he'd even managed to talk at Suga for half an hour about different types of grass; Daichi had to defend himself at this point, claiming that the topic was very interesting and something everyone should know about. Fortunately for Daichi, Suga found this awkward act extremely endearing._ _

__After months of mutual pining and awkward half confessions, Suga finally decided to make his move. Daichi had offered to help him muck out the stables, and had been talking nonstop for about an hour. Something about the different types of dog food, Suga seemed to recall. Suga dropped his fork to the ground and walked straight over to Daichi, placing a firm kiss on his lips. Daichi keeled over, taking a stunned Suga with him. They continued kissing for the rest of the afternoon, only jumping away from each other when Daichi's dad walked in to check on them._ _

__"I kept finding hay in my hair for weeks," Daichi chuckled._ _

__"Mm," Suga turned and placed a kiss on Daichi's temple. "That was a good afternoon."_ _

__"Nearly seven years ago."_ _

__Suga snorted, "Seven years and you still can't take a hint."_ _

__Everyone, excluding Daichi, laughed at this. Sawamura buried his head in Suga's back, mumbling incoherently. There was something he wasn't understanding and he didn't like it._ _

__"Your turn, Iwa-chan!" Oikawa sang, nudging Iwaizumi._ _

__"Dare."_ _

__Kuroo spoke without hesitation, "Kiss Oikawa."_ _

__The room fell silent. Oikawa was well aware of the eyes on both him and Iwaizumi. Tooru glanced over at Iwaizumi; his jaw was clenched tightly and his fists bunched in his lap. Oikawa gulped at the sight. He looked uncomfortable and frustrated, a vein pulsing in his temple._ _

__"No," Iwaizumi said through gritted teeth. "I'm not going to kiss Oikawa. Jesus, Kuroo."_ _

__That was like a stab to the heart. Iwaizumi's voice was filled with venom, angered at Kuroo's suggestion. The venom didn't only hurt Kuroo, though; it seeped from the stab in Oikawa's heart, leaking into his veins and turning him cold and scared. He felt sick. His eyes were stinging with tears and his fingers were trembling in his lap. Iwaizumi didn't want to kiss him. He didn't know why he was so surprised._ _

__He needed to go._ _

__He pushed himself off of the floor, swallowing the painful lump in his throat. He did his best to blink back the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks. Snatching his blazer from the floor, he stalked toward the door, hurriedly slipping on his shoes._ _

__"I really enjoyed today," he shouted over his shoulder, internally kicking himself as his voice broke. "Thanks for everything, but I've really got to go! I'll see you all later."_ _

__He didn't give anyone the chance to reply before he swung the door open and let himself out. That was when he let the tears pour. Darkness had fallen, bringing coldness along with it. Oikawa shrugged his blazer on and hugged it to himself for warmth. The warmth of his tears helped with his rapidly cooling cheeks, keeping them at least somewhat warm. His breath formed an intricate cloud of warmth in front of him, swirling tendrils of white reaching for the stars._ _

__He didn't stop at the carpark, instead walking straight on. He was going to make it home even if it killed him. He didn't need Iwaizumi to take him home. Who needed Iwaizumi anyway? Not him. He didn't need anybody. He never had. And this was what he got, when he started to rely on somebody; pain. Because it hurt. A lot. His heart was throbbing dully and his lungs ached with sobs that wracked his chest, rattling his ribs like wind chimes in a hurricane._ _

__He'd been walking for almost an hour when he gave up. He had no idea where he was, and he couldn't feel his extremities. His fingers were sore and he could barely move his toes. There was no doubt that his cheeks and nose were bright red. He sat down in the middle of the empty street, pulling his legs up to his chest and sobbing into the crevice between his knees._ _

__Iwaizumi didn't want to kiss him. Why should he? He was too good for Oikawa, after all. It shouldn't have even been a shock. But that didn't stop it from hurting. Was this heartbreak? He'd heard that was terrible._ _

__He continued to cry, heart wrenching sobs that seemed to rattle the empty buildings around him. He was lost. He had lost. He was scared. He was cold. Nobody would miss him if he just stayed there forever, crying alone._ _

__The rumble of a car stopped beside him. He ignored it. There was a whir as a window was rolled down, and the familiar rumble of outdated rock music. Oikawa turned his back to the car._ _

__"Oikawa, get in the car."_ _

__Oikawa sent him a rude gesture over his shoulder. Iwaizumi sighed heavily as he opened the door, stepping out into the cold. He stood behind Oikawa, shadow cast over him protectively, arms crossed over his chest. Oikawa shuffled out of the shadow, not once removing his face from his knees. Iwaizumi just stepped to the side, encasing him in his shadow once more._ _

__"Get in the car, Assikawa, you're gonna freeze out here."_ _

__"I'm not getting in the car with you," Oikawa deadpanned._ _

__Light graced Oikawa's features as Iwaizumi took a step back. Oikawa expected him to get back in the car and drive off- part of Oikawa wanted him to, though the other part wasn't so sure. Relief flooded his veins as Iwaizumi instead moved to stand in front of Oikawa, kneeling down and into Oikawa's sight._ _

__"Are you mad at me?" Iwaizumi asked softly._ _

__Oikawa rubbed his eyes stubbornly with the back of his hands. His breaths were coming out shuddering, partly from the exhaustion of crying and partly from the bitter cold. Iwaizumi looked strained. Oikawa wondered how long he'd been searching, and how much he'd been blaming himself. He instantly felt very guilty._ _

__"No," Oikawa sighed. "I'm angry at myself."_ _

__"Why?"_ _

__Oikawa laughed dryly, "For thinking I deserved somebody like you, Iwa-chan."_ _

__A flash of fury flitted across Iwaizumi's face. It was soon replaced with softness as he met Oikawa's eyes, gentle browns filled with stress and worry._ _

__"Jesus, Oikawa, all this because I wouldn't kiss you? You frightened me." He lightly pressed his hand to the side of Oikawa's face, stroking lightly with his thumb._ _

__"Sorry," Oikawa mumbled, tilting his head into Iwaizumi's touch. He didn't only crave the warmth, but also the knowledge that Iwaizumi was there. "I panicked."_ _

__Iwa-chan smiled, "I didn't say no because I didn't want to kiss you, y'know."_ _

__Oikawa frowned, "Then why-?" His voice trailed off._ _

__"Because I didn't want to do it in front of all those people. But, now, if you-"_ _

__Oikawa didn't even have to think, "Yes._ Please._"

That was all it took for Iwaizumi to bridge the distance between them, crashing their lips together desperately. An eager exhale escaped Iwaizumi's nose as Oikawa hummed contentedly against his lips. The model's heart was thrashing against his chest, his fingers knotting tighter in the farmhand's shirt, his lips pushing harder against the other man's, desperate for affection. He needed this. He needed to feel beautiful, if only for a little while.

Iwaizumi's lips were warm and chapped. He tasted like cake. It was a chaste kiss, nothing overly dramatic, just the interlocking of two hearts. Iwaizumi moved his free hand to Oikawa's waist, pulling him closer. His hand was warm, firm against Oikawa's waist, almost as though they belonged there. Iwaizumi's other hand wandered into Oikawa's hair, carding through it tenderly. Oikawa shuddered.

Iwaizumi took this to mean Oikawa was cold, and pulled away from the kiss, but only far enough to rest their foreheads together. Their breaths intermingled between them, both breathing heavily even though the kiss had been a relatively short one. Neither removed their grip from the other man, desperate to keep close.

"We should get you home before you catch a cold."

Oikawa hummed, eyes still closed from the kiss. He wanted to relish the moment. He never wanted to forget the feel of Hajime's lips against his. Iwaizumi kissed him once more before helping him into the car and turning the heating up, offering Oikawa his own blazer as a blanket.

"Iwa-chan?" Oikawa called, snuggling beneath Iwaizumi's blazer.

"Mm?"

"Your music still sucks."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY *dances*
> 
> Amazing song that inspired this chapter title was 'All I Want' by Passion Pit ^_^
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading!! I love you all <3
> 
> More kissing to come!! But beware, more kissing=more drama (oops)
> 
> My Tumblr: http://bealikestowrite.tumblr.com


	8. Your Kiss is Sugary Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More modelling. Akaashi is great. Oikawa and Akaashi are BFFL. Kuroo is awkward. Daichi runs. Pizza.

"Aka-chan, you smell nice," Oikawa muttered into Akaashi's shoulder. He smelt of warmth and strawberry shampoo.

It was early in the morning, the sleepy rising sun splintering over the distant mountain tops. Bright spotlights burst through the dragging clouds, kissing the surroundings and gracing Akaashi's head of curls. The sky, painted rosy pink, was filled with thick fluffy white and golden shards, its beauty encapsulating Oikawa as he stared groggily out of the window. It looked as though it would be a sunny day, yet the thick clouds and bitter wind suggested this was but a mere illusion. Oikawa was glad he was hidden in the protective warmth of a dressing room.

True to Akaashi's words, the previous company had called him back. They'd told him he had raw talent they'd endeavour to shape, and he had the perfect look for their aesthetic; Akaashi was the enigmatic moonlight, whilst Oikawa was the refreshing sunlight. They were essentially polar opposites in their appearance, yet their juxtaposing features made for a hugely attractive shoot. He'd been told this was a necessary factor, as today they'd be sharing a shoot, working together to create the perfect pictures. It was safe to say that Oikawa was nervous; he'd never modelled _with someone_ before.

"It's strawberry scented," Akaashi replied. "It's Bokuto-san's favourite."

Oikawa kept his head rested on Akaashi's slender shoulder as he frowned, scratching the side of his nose before occupying himself by twirling a brown curl around his finger. Akaashi shifted in his seat slightly, allowing Oikawa to rest his head more comfortably. They'd become much closer over the past week. They related to one another a lot more than Oikawa had expected.

"You still call him Bokuto-san? Even though he's your boyfriend."

Akaashi chuckled, "Not to his face. He gets very distraught."

Oikawa hummed. They were waiting for the makeup artists to ready themselves. Sharing a dressing room was new, but Oikawa couldn't deny that Akaashi's unobtrusive presence was welcome. They were each sat in their own chair, both pushed close together due to the limited space the room allowed them. They shared one long mirror, stretching from one end of the wall to the other, most of which was covered with Polaroid pictures of previous models who had occupied the room. The shelf in front of them was drowned in a cascade of makeup and perfumes, glorious bottles shimmering under the pinkness of the morning light, giving them all the appearance of some sort of mystical love potion. The rest of the room was sparsely decorated, the walls painted an off-white to contrast with the mirror's modernistic black lining.

"Kuroo is also very distraught," Akaashi added softly.

Oikawa turned his head to face the mirror, still refusing to remove the weight from Akaashi's surprisingly comfortable shoulder. His own brown eyes blinked back at him in the glass, surrounded by dark circles from his lack of sleep the night before; he'd been so nervous, spending time watching videos of other models to find the perfect way to angle your body and attempting to perfect the sultry half-lidded look. Akaashi met his gaze in the reflection, long lashes grazing his cheeks.

"I know." The statement was blunt. Oikawa had read the texts, but the dull black font had rendered the muddled half-apologies to no more than empty words, words that meant so much more when said, rather than when read in a tacky font. Aside from that, it seemed Kuroo was avoiding him; he'd done his utmost over the past few days to find excuses to avoid Oikawa.

"He feels awful."

"I'm not even that angry at him!" Oikawa threw his hands up in exasperation. "It all worked out in the end. But it was still a stupid thing to do, so I'd like an apology."

"It was a stupid thing to do," Akaashi agreed. "But he was trying to help in his own way. His unusual Kuroo-san way."

Oikawa nodded, "You're so _wise_ , Aka-chan."

Their conversation was halted at that moment by the sudden creaking of the door behind them, followed by the slam of makeup palettes as they were thrown down on the shelf below the mirror. The two artists proceeded with their job, accentuating the models' best features; Oikawa's eyes were lined and dusted whilst Akaashi's lips were glossed and traced. Oikawa's hair was teased and sprayed beyond recognition, whilst silver glitter was poured into the midnight curls atop Akaashi's head.

When they stepped away, Oikawa smiled at himself in the mirror. The makeup wasn't quite as heavy this time; his eyes were lined with a shimmering golden trail, his eyelids coated with orange. Tiny emerald gems were scattered around the edge of his eyes, like pinpricks of precious stars against the plane of his skin. His cheeks were precisely contoured, giving the shapely bones a more dramatic angle, high and strong below the artful eyes.

"You look wonderful, Oikawa-san," Akaashi smiled as the makeup artist finished brushing along the hollow of his cheeks.

"When don't I?" Oikawa placed his hands on his hips and flicked his hair dramatically, only to find it didn't bob about his head as it usually did. It stayed completely still, matted around his head like a cat's unbrushed fur. That was going to be a pain to get out later.

Akaashi stood from his chair. They'd opted for simplicity around his eyes, lining them with a black pen, the outer edge of the line traced with a silver trail. It flicked out at the corners of his eyes, giving him an almost feline-esque appearance. His cheeks were dusted with silver paint, sparkles collating beneath the shallow curve of his cheekbones. His lips were midnight black lined with silver, like a storm cloud edged with forthcoming lightning. The plump flesh was embellished with tiny little stars, his own personal constellation across the pout of his lips. His hair glistened under the morning light, the sparkles tinted pink under the candyfloss sky. He looked ethereal with the way his hair licked the tips of his ears, extraterrestrial with the way he scintillated.

"Aka-chan looks very pretty," Oikawa gave Akaashi two big thumbs-up.

"When don't I?" Akaashi mimicked Oikawa's flamboyant attitude, even garnishing the humorous display with a familiar peace sign. Dancing flecks of stardust poured from his hair as he flicked it, the cloud like a halo descending toward the ground.

Oikawa snorted, "Wow, who knew Aka-chan was such a diva?"

Akaashi rubbed the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly, "I'm never going to do that again."

"I dunno, I liked it. Sassy Akaashi sort of has a ring to it, don't you think?"

"Ah, I think I'll leave the sass to you. You're better at it," a sly smile crept its way across his painted lips.

Their clothes came next, and were pulled on with care so as not to ruin the already applied makeup and ordered hair. Oikawa found himself in a flowing amber shirt which drooped off of his right shoulder, revealing the pale curve of skin and sharp protrusion of shoulder blade. It was tied in at the waist with a thin red ribbon, the tails of which spiralled down and bounced each time he moved, like the dance of a flame atop a candle. The shirt flounced out from under the bow in a peplum style, like a flame bursting up from lit wood. The red trousers they dressed him in were open at the sides, held together by orange ribbons. Akaashi was dressed in a similar fashion, though his colour combination was a collaboration of blacks and silvers instead.

By the time they were ready for the shoot, the pink was already almost completely absent from the sky. Blue conquered the horizon, interrupted only by the thick clouds casting shadow onto the ground below. Birds were finishing their songs and starting their journeys, flittering through the sky and chattering away nonsensically. Animals were joining in their conversations, babbling away in their distant fields.

The location was beautiful, Oikawa decided. They'd been taken up onto empty countryside, hence why the wind was so strong. Fields surrounded them for miles, stretching out like a green and brown ocean. It was beautiful in its meekness; there were no extravagant flowers, just the gentle caress of tiny daisies against the dry grass and the swaying of leafy foliage in the wind. They had the backdrop of untouched rolling hills and distant towering mountains, some of which mercillesly tore the thick blanket of clouds, gold spilling from the rip.

Tripods were perched precariously on the hilly terrain, wobbling in the wind. Lights were set up and monitors were readied. It would be a huge misfortune if it were to rain, though the photographer had claimed the weather reports didn't warn of it, but this didn't stop the cautious looks some staff were sending at the encroaching clouds.

The two models had been instructed to stand in a patch of daisies, a spot which was encircled by a waterfall of golden sunlight. It was like their own natural spotlight, a light which adorned their features with a cloak of dazzling shimmer. The exposed skin at the sides of Oikawa's legs was being licked with the warmth of the rising morning sun, the wind not doing enough to tear away the welcome heat.

"Right," the photographer clapped his hands together once all of the equipment had been readied. "The sun and the moon. Marvellous!"

The photographer ushered the rest of the staff into one big huddle. They spoke in a hushed whisper, occasionally looking up to scrutinise one of the models. Oikawa felt as though he were some sort of item on display in a shop, a dress waiting to be picked or returned as unsatisfactory. He cast a glance at Akaashi. He didn't seem all too bothered by the examination, too preoccupied in the carpet of daisies below him, prodding them with his feet. Perhaps Oikawa was being too self-conscious?

"Okay then," the photographer clapped once more and rubbed his hands together. "Oikawa-kun, Akaashi-kun, you both look gorgeous, of course. Now, you're both very talented models, so you should be able to follow these very simple instructions, right? Good. Let's go."

Oikawa rolled his eyes. He couldn't help but feel this photographer was highly patronising. He doled out instructions meticulously, making sure to make them as simple as possible so the 'pretty models' could understand them. His voice took on the air of somebody reluctantly addressing someone they perceived as lower than themselves; Oikawa hated it. But it was a job, and he wasn't alone this time, so he carried out the instructions without so much as a snide remark.

They spent hours attempting to perfect various positions. The first, Oikawa found himself sat in amongst the daisies, one knee tugged up to his chest with his arm dangling lazily over it, gaze half-lidded and biting his bottom lip, Akaashi sat beside him with his back pressing against Oikawa's arm. The second, Akaashi was sat on the floor, head tilted to the side to expose the soft expanse of skin, river of sparkles seeming to move in the light; Oikawa was bent down behind him, arms draped over Akaashi's shoulders, one hand interlocking with Akaashi's as they both gazed down the camera lens. The third was a simple forehead touch, the sun's rays framing their silhouettes like a cloak of raining liquid gold.

By the time they were finished, the sun was already high in the sky. Most of the clouds had cleared, much to the relief of the employees, and the expanse of azure sky was only interrupted by the daring peak of mountains. Oikawa was exhausted; his muscles hummed uncomfortably after sitting in the same positions for so long and his ears rang from being talked at by the photographer all morning. He wondered if Akaashi felt the same. All he wanted was to go home, brush all of the spray out of his hair, and have a nice shower before settling down in front of the television to marathon some awful old movie series. Oikawa liked terrible movies.

He trudged back to the dressing room, Akaashi at his side. Oikawa flopped onto the chair in front of the mirror, groaning as he thumped his head back against the headrest. Akaashi shut the door behind them, grabbing his clothes from where they were folded up on the side. He proceeded to get changed, no shame, all lean muscle and smooth skin. 

"That man was so _bossy_ ," Oikawa whined, tugging moodily on a string of sticky hair. "He treated me like I was stupid. I'm not stupid."

Akaashi smiled, fixing his hair in the mirror after tugging his shirt on. He scrunched his nose up as he spotted the glitter coating the neckline of his shirt, more falling out of his hair with every movement.

"Unfortunately," Akaashi turned, a sympathetic tilt to his lips. "People think that pretty invalidates intelligence, and vice versa."

Oikawa scowled, "I hate stereotypes."

Akaashi hummed his agreement and glanced at his phone. Oikawa, using all of his remaining energy and ignoring the burn in the backs of his thighs, pushed himself up from the chair and proceeded to get changed. He'd brush his hair out and remove his makeup when he got home. He inwardly groaned at the thought of having to brush all of the new knots in his hair; it was usually bad enough even without the teasing.

"Bokuto's already outside."

Oikawa readjusted his trousers. Bokuto had given the pair a lift earlier that morning on his way to work, and had offered to drop Oikawa back home after the shoot on the way back to the farm. Oikawa had gratefully accepted the offer, not all too eager to drive his car through yet more narrow lanes. Bokuto had been tactful enough not to mention the incident with Kuroo, though Oikawa presumed this was heavily due to the warning glances Akaashi kept sending his way.

"Well, we shouldn't keep him waiting!" Oikawa shrugged his jacket on, waltzing toward the door. Akaashi followed after him, pulling his own jacket on. Even though the sun announced its presence via its subtle warmth, the overpowering bite of the wind still made it necessary for coats and jackets to be worn.

They marched out, side by side, following a trodden down footpath which stretched from the tiny building's door down to the gravel car park. The car park was hidden behind a grassy mound, and was surrounded by barren trunks and creaking branches. There were various signs scattered about, warnings to refrain from littering and to never feed the animals. It was packed to the brim with cars, most of which belonged to the crew, all stacked high with tools and technology.

Then there was the owl mobile. Akaashi refused to let Bokuto drive his own more discreet car, and so Oikawa had awoken at five in the morning to find an eyesore of a vehicle roaring outside his apartment complex. And there it was again, ruining the tranquility of the surroundings with its questionable exterior. There were two new stuffed owls sat on the dashboard, which could only have come from the owl exhibition a few weeks prior.

The tranquility was further ruined when Bokuto rolled his window down and called out to the pair, golden eyes gleaming, "Bokuto's taxi, at your owl-vice!"

Oikawa snorted, "That doesn't even make sense."

"Just humour him," Akaashi muttered. "That usually works."

Akaashi slipped into the passenger's seat, receiving a peck on the cheek from Bokuto as he buckled himself in. Oikawa pouted, sliding into the back seat, "Don't I get a kiss?"

"Not from me," Bokuto winked at him in the rearview mirror. He turned the key in the ignition, car springing to life with a threatening growl. Gravel crunched under the tyres as Bokuto pulled them out of the car park. "I'm sure your Iwa-chan would rather do that."

Oikawa shot Bokuto a look. In fact, there had been no kissing since that one evening. Neither had mentioned it, and at a glance one might think that there was no change between them; at closer inspection, however, the one kiss had a phenomenal impact. It was in the subtlest of touches, the way Iwa-chan's hands lingered a little too long on Oikawa, the way there was no longer any deliberation between them, Iwaizumi leaning forward to pluck grass from Oikawa's hair and Oikawa reaching to rub mud from Iwaizumi's face. But they hadn't mentioned the kiss, and they _certainly_ hadn't mentioned anything about relationships. 

"I wish he would," Oikawa grumbled.

Bokuto spared him a glance over his shoulder. Oikawa wished he would pay his full attention on the road instead. They were driving down a narrow country lane, lined with a small stone wall on each side, which was slowly being drowned by the craning bushes. Brambles stretched out to drag along the side of the car, but Bokuto didn't bat an eyelid, ignoring the jolt of the car as they hit a particularly deep pothole.

"Why don't you kiss him?"

Oikawa rested his head against the window, "Because I don't want to kiss him if he doesn't want to kiss me."

Akaashi shifted in his seat and brought his eyes to meet Oikawa's, "I really don't think that's going to be a problem, Oikawa-san."

"How can you be sure?" Oikawa whined, tugging childishly on his seatbelt.

Akaashi turned back in his seat. Oikawa could only see the side of his face, but it was possible to spot a light smirk twitching against his cheeks. Oikawa scratched his cheek, frowning.

"I don't know much about Iwaizumi-san's past," Akaashi stretched his legs out in front of him and splayed his fingers against his thighs. "But I do know the fact he's letting himself get this close to you is a big deal. If he didn't want you to kiss him, then he wouldn't have kissed you in the first place."

Oikawa sighed, familiar words spilling from his lips, "You're so wise, Aka-chan."

Then there was a garbled roar from Oikawa's back pocket. Bokuto jumped, losing his grip on the steering wheel, Akaashi leaning over to hold it still so they didn't swerve into the bushes lining the road. Oikawa lifted his butt from the seat and wiggled his phone free from the material of his back pocket. Bokuto's golden eyes narrowed as he looked at Oikawa in the rearview mirror.

"Your phone almost killed us!"

Oikawa pouted, "Don't blame your awful driving on my amazing text tone!"

"My driving isn't awful! That tone is awful!"

A gasp rattled Oikawa's ribs. He placed a hand to his broken heart, turning his head dramatically as he trailed a tear's tragic path down his cheek with a finger. He allowed his voice to waver in the most melodramatic way, "How could you say that about Chewbacca?"

"I thought Kuroo had put another goat in the car!" Bokuto whimpered.

Oikawa frowned but decided not to ask, tearing his attention away as Akaashi began to pat Bokuto's arm soothingly. Akaashi had to turn around and examine the car for goats before Bokuto seemed to calm down a bit. Oikawa drowned out the ordeal and instead opened the text waiting for him; his breath caught in his throat as he noted it was a text from Iwa-chan. Akaashi seemed to notice, raising his eyebrow at Oikawa. Tooru just shooed him away, to which Akaashi responded with a quiet chuckle.

**Iwa-chan ♥ [3:47pm]:** mine for dinner?

Oikawa clamped his teeth down on his bottom lip to stop himself from breaking into a huge grin. He was still vaguely aware of the looks Akaashi was sending his way every so often, in between his light pats to Bokuto's arm to comfort him.

**You [3:48pm]:** Iwa-chan, if you're going to ask me out then at least make it romantic!!! ╯▂╰

The reply was almost instant, the roar of Chewbacca once again unsettling Bokuto. Oikawa decided to put his phone on silent, if only to ensure Bokuto kept them on the road.

**Iwa-chan ♥ [3:48pm]:** fine don't bother trashykawa.

**You [3:50pm]:** Waaaaah, Iwa-chan I was joking!!!! I'm sorry ･ﾟﾟ･( >д Iwa-chan ♥ [3:53pm]: k. come back to the farm with bokuto and i'll drive us to mine.

**You [3:54pm]:** Okaaaaaaaay!!! Exciteeeeeeed~ ┌（^ .^）┘

Oikawa pocketed his phone and informed the couple of his new plans. The rest of the drive saw Oikawa buzzing ecstatically in his seat, alternating between watching the world rush past his window and fiddling with a loose thread that dangled from his shirt. He was fidgeting like an excited child, gnawing on his lips to hide his embarrassing beam. He'd never been to Iwaizumi's place before, and it was fair to say that he was overly excited. He found himself imagining how Hajime lived; was he messy, organised, extravagant, minimal? Were his walls bare or covered in memories? Was his kitchen full of cooking utensils or empty takeout boxes? Did he have any pets? Oikawa entertained himself with these fanciful thoughts until they arrived back at Karakomasai, the bump of stones beneath the tyres bringing him back from his daydream.

Karakomasai was always at its most beautiful as afternoon was chased away by the encroaching evening. Oikawa couldn't quite put his finger on why that was, but there was something that gave the farm an almost fantastical air. Perhaps it was the way the sinking sun slid behind the distant fields, spilling liquid gold onto the emerald grass, a mesmerising concoction of precious substances, pinpricked here and there with the ruby of strawberries and the sapphire of flowers. The once blue sky was dyed with amber, streaked with fluffy white. Karakomasai house was haloed with a glowing light, the dancing ivy casting an intricate shadow against the floor, continuing their own intimate dance in the gentle breeze. Even the brambles became somewhat beautiful, joining in with the ivy's dance, thorns creating specks of darkness on the floor, like shadowy stars.

The three exited the car, heading straight for the house. Bokuto had to help finish up with the evening milking, and Akaashi had agreed to wait at the farm for him. Bokuto parted from them at the door, a quick peck to Akaashi's cheek and a fist bump to Oikawa's shoulder, an encouraging nod accompanying it. They watched as his unruly hair disappeared behind a bush as he turned down to the milking shed, whistling a jolly tune as he went. Akaashi smiled fondly and turned to open the front door, hopping out of the way just in time to dodge Gumball, who came barrelling out of the door without looking back. There was a yelp from Bokuto as Gumball barged past him, presumably almost knocking him off of his feet. Oikawa hid a chortle behind his hand; Akaashi nudged him, suppressing a smirk of his own.

They headed down the pristine hallway, following the noise of chatter from the kitchen. The kettle was boiling over the stove, steam rising in uniform flicks, licking the walls and glass of the window. Daichi was leant up against the counter, scratching his neck in thought, eyes distant. Kuroo was sat inelegantly at the side of the table, nibbling at a generous slice of cake in front of him. Kenma was leant against him, head rested on his shoulder, tapping away determinedly at his game console. Iwaizumi sat opposite them, leaning back with his arms folded across his chest.

It had clearly been a hard day's work. Kuroo looked exhausted, dark hollows framing his eyes. His trousers were stained with grass, sweat patches scattered across his shirt. Iwaizumi was in a similar state, mud caking his trousers. He glanced over at Oikawa as he entered the kitchen, sending him a subtle smile. Oikawa grinned in return, walking over to take the seat next to him.

Their arms brushed lightly, Iwaizumi's warmth seeming to sap away the stresses of the day. In response to this realisation, Oikawa pressed his thigh against Iwaizumi's, relishing in the way the contact made him feel so much more relaxed and content. Iwaizumi didn't move away, instead returning the push of Oikawa's thigh, as though understanding the heavy connotations of the action. Perhaps he did. Iwaizumi seemed to understand him; when to push him, when to help him, when to leave him be. The thought of someone understanding him that way, someone being linked to him both physically and mentally, was both a soothing and terrifying thought. It left him vulnerable, yet this vulnerability came with the offer of a new guard. Hajime was his protection but also, Oikawa realised, the one person who was closest to his vulnerable side. He didn't know whether that thought was calming or threatening. There was something about Iwa-chan that made him want to find out. That was _definitely_ a scary thought.

"Nice hair," Iwaizumi muttered. Oikawa lifted a hand to his hair in confusion. Coherence hit him as he felt the sticky strands beneath his fingertips. He glowered at Iwaizumi and nudged him with his knee under the table. Iwaizumi snickered.

"A nice person would ask how my shoot went," Oikawa retorted haughtily.

"You're right," he replied thoughtfully. "How was your shoot? Did you fall off of any horses?"

Oikawa elbowed him. Hajime clutched the targeted area, pretending to be in immense pain. Oikawa rolled his eyes, shoulders bobbing as he laughed behind his hand.

"Ah, Daichi-san, Gumball ran off when we opened the door," Akaashi called from where he was perched at the end of the table nearest Kenma. He was running his fingers absently through his hair, scrunching his nose at all of the glitter this left clinging to his skin.

Daichi hummed, "S'alright, he probably went out to find Suga. He doesn't like it when he works late."

The kettle finished boiling, and Daichi turned to tend to it. He offered everyone a drink and slice of cake, an offer gratefully accepted by Kuroo- who was now on his second slice- and Iwaizumi. Oikawa settled for a glass of fruit juice, Akaashi a glass of water, and Kenma a can of soda. Daichi set a slice of cake in front of Iwaizumi, another of Suga's marvellous recipes. This one was iced with yellow, little sprinkles on top and jam in the centre. Iwaizumi picked up his fork and licked his lips. Before he could dig in, however, Oikawa swooped in, grabbing a generous lump of cake and icing between his fingers. The taste was incredible; soft sponge mixed with strawberry jam. Oikawa went in for another helping, only to have a fork waved at him threateningly. He pulled his hand back and pouted, sending his best puppy eyes Iwaizumi's way.

"If you want some cake, get your own slice," Iwaizumi said gruffly.

Oikawa whined, "But _Iwa-chan!_ I don't want a whole slice, I just want a little bit."

Iwaizumi scooped some cake up into his mouth, glaring at Oikawa pointedly. Tooru watched petulantly as Iwaizumi chewed the cake.

"No, this is my slice, get your own."

"Iwa-chan, _please_." Oikawa took to poking Iwaizumi repeatedly in the arm. He ignored the feel of firm muscles beneath his fingertip, instead putting all of his focus into irritating Iwa-chan. When he didn't relent, Tooru leant forward and rested his forehead on his shoulder, huffily repeating his name. He smiled to himself as he felt Iwaizumi's shoulders rise and fall in a sigh. Oikawa lifted his forehead and watched as Iwaizumi loaded his fork before bringing it to Oikawa's mouth. Oikawa blinked. He hadn't expected Iwaizumi to feed him. Ignoring the heat flooding his cheeks, Oikawa took the cake from the fork, grinning victoriously.

Daichi leant forward, resting his hands around the mug on the table. He arched a brow at the pair's antics, amusement betraying the serious look on his face. Akaashi was smirking to himself at the end of the table, chin rested in his hands. Kenma didn't lift his gaze from his game. Kuroo, however, was staring at the pair directly, dark eyes blinking heavily.

"You two-" his voice cracked. "You two are okay?"

Iwaizumi remained silent and focused on his cake. Oikawa was the one to answer, cocking his head and leaning forward to bump Kuroo's fist with his own. Kuroo blinked once more, confusion clear in the way his eyes glazed over, thinking.

"I think so," Oikawa sang. "Why wouldn't we be?"

Kuroo huffed, "Because I'm an ass. I thought I was helping and I just messed everything up, didn't I? Just like I always do." He sighed heavily and rested his face in his hands. Kenma tore his attention away from his game now, reaching up to pull Kuroo's large hands away, prodding his cheek lightly to get his attention. He raised his eyebrows at Kuroo, who seemed to understand instantly. "So, I'm really sorry. You don't have to forgive me, but I made you this when I was at my little cousin's place."

Kuroo reached out with his right hand, his palm bestowing a beaded bracelet, an alternating pattern of blue and white with some sort of decoration dangling from the centre. At closer inspection, the innocent looking decoration looked to be a tiny cat, with white fur and deep brown eyes, making a peace sign with its little paws. Oikawa reached out and plucked it from Kuroo's muddy palm. He slipped it onto his wrist, the cat sitting above the river of blue veins below his palm.

"Kuroo, you're such a loser," Oikawa snickered. "I told, there's no reason why we wouldn't be okay. But you're right, you are an ass, but you're _my ass._ "

Kuroo snorted, "Dude, that sounded really weird."

"It sounded better in my head," Oikawa admitted. "So in short, I, your merciful ruler, have decided to forgive you."

Kuroo frowned, "That seemed too easy. Are you sure-"

Oikawa waved his hands dismissively, "Kuroo, I don't think it's any secret that I don't always get along with people, so I'm not about to push away people who I do get on with. Though, if you insist, you can always buy me milk bread everyday for the next week in way of apology."

"I just made you a friendship bracelet! Not many people get that privilege!" Kuroo protested.

"I'll give you half."

"Deal."

The next ten minutes consisted of casual chatter, Daichi thinking deeply about something, and Oikawa stealing lumps of cake from Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi only protested this arrangement when Oikawa attempted to steal the bit with the most jam; he ended up cutting this bit in two to stop Oikawa's incessant whining. Their legs were still pressed together under the table, and Oikawa couldn't even find it in himself to complain about how Iwaizumi was probably wiping mud and grass stains all over his leg. He feared that if he did that, then the warm presence of Iwaizumi's leg would tear itself away from him, leaving him cold and exposed. He hated feeling cold and exposed.

The sun continued to sink below the boundary of the emerald horizon, amber light splintering, shards of gold piercing the ground like precious obelisks. It poured in through the window, filling the sink and overflowing onto the floor, the liquid light glistening against the little pink decorations in the room. Oikawa traced the boundary between light and dark with his index finger, enjoying the contrast of warmth and coolness.

" _Oh my god,_ " Daichi hissed. He launched himself up from his chair, legs screeching against the floor as he did so. There was a look of stunned realisation on his face, mouth hanging open in bewilderment. Oikawa was tactful enough to hide his smirk behind his hand, Iwaizumi copying this tact by hiding his own amusement behind the rim of his mug. As expected, Kuroo wasn't discreet, leaning forward with his head in his palms as he raised his brows at Sawamura. "My boyfriend is impossible and I'm so oblivious."

Kuroo and Oikawa raised their hands and clapped in unison. Daichi sent them a sharp look before excusing himself in a hurry, almost kicking the chair over as he went. They heard the door slam and saw him struggling to pull his shoes on in a hurry, eventually giving up and setting off wearing just the one shoe. The remaining group- excluding Kenma- watched as Daichi's silhouette disappeared over the hill, strong legs dragging him forward in a determined run.

Kuroo shook his head amusedly, and even Kenma couldn't hide the smile creeping along his lips. A clatter bounced off of the painted walls as Iwaizumi allowed his fork to drop to the plate. He downed the last bit of his coffee before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. In one swift movement, he picked his plate and mug up from the table and dumped them into the sink, escaped water droplets shimmering like diamond shards.

"Let's go, dumbass."

\----

Oikawa was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet as he waited for Iwaizumi to open the door to apartment fourteen. It was past six before they finally arrived, sun almost completely devoured by the unrelenting hills. Oikawa was practically buzzing with excitement, and though Iwa-chan had pretended to be annoyed by this, he failed to hide the amusement in his eyes at Tooru's child-like intrigue as he looked about his surroundings.

Iwaizumi was on the bottom floor, giving him direct access to the surrounding gardens. His door was painted brick red with a golden handle, a 'Beware of Dog' sign stuck in the window to the left. It was one of those cute ones, with swirly writing and a picture of a dog wearing a hat. Oikawa had asked about it and Iwa-chan had claimed his mother had bought it for him, insisting he display it to protect his little girl.

Oikawa soon learnt that this 'little girl' wasn't quite as little as he'd thought. The door had barely been opened before a thigh-high German Shepherd dog bounded up to them, pink tongue lolling out of her mouth. Oikawa was hardly inside the threshold of the apartment before she was sniffing him intently, eyeing him with suspicion as he kicked off his shoes. He gingerly petted her, afraid of her intricate judgements. He considered it a success when she licked his palm and trotted off, leaving the pair standing in the hallway.

"She's cute," Oikawa examined his palm in wonderment. "What's her name?"

Iwaizumi wandered further into his apartment, gesturing for Oikawa to follow him. Oikawa did so obligingly.

"She's called Sora."

"Pretty! I'm surprised you came up with something like that, Iwa-chan."

Iwaizumi sent him a rude gesture over his shoulder, "Shut up, dumbass. She's called Sora because when she was a puppy she would only sleep if she had a clear view of the sky."

The image of Hajime with a puppy was almost enough to make Tooru faint. Handsome, ruggedly attractive Iwa-chan lightly cradling a bundle of fluff in his arms, feeding it when its eyes are barely open, stroking it to sleep when it cries late at night, taking it for walks and carrying it when it gets tired, maybe even combing its fur. Oikawa swallowed the lump in his throat. He went to run a hand through his hair, only to realise that it was still sprayed and knotted beyond the fixing of mere hands. He groaned.

"Iwa-chan, do you have a hairbrush I can borrow? I need to sort out my hair; I look like a fusion gem of Bokuto and Kuroo."

Iwaizumi spluttered, "I couldn't have described it better myself. There's a comb on the coffee table there, that's all I've got. I'm gonna go and have a shower, I'll be five minutes."

"That quick Iwa-chan? No wonder you smell all of the time!"

Iwaizumi gently punched Oikawa on the shoulder. He feigned annoyance, but the glimmer of fondness in his hazel eyes betrayed him, the look making Oikawa's heart stop its dancing in his chest. They stayed there for a moment, just staring at one another. Oikawa could only imagine how ridiculous he must've looked in his extravagant makeup which was probably running and his ridiculous hair. Iwaizumi looked better, delicate glow of the afternoon sun trapped beneath his skin, giving him this sort of gleam akin to that of an angel's. His dark hair was more tousled than usual, perhaps needing a trim, loose tendrils brushing against his eyebrows. Tooru couldn't help but feel jealous of the light and shadow, able to kiss his lips and touch his skin without any restrictions, though he couldn't deny that this kissing and touching gave him a wondrous beauty.

Iwaizumi cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck, "I'm gonna shower. Help yourself to the comb."

He hurried into a door off to the left, leaving Oikawa standing alone. He blinked. Then he giggled giddily to himself. He was in Iwa-chan's apartment. And not only was he in Iwa-chan's apartment, but he had been invited there. He wasn't running an errand, wasn't giving him a lift somewhere, wasn't fixing anything; he was there because Iwaizumi wanted him there. The thought sent Oikawa's mind reeling.

Oikawa plopped himself down on the sofa sat in the centre of the room. It was very Iwa-chan, with the modernistic dark colours and practical decor. The slim television and pile of old CDs, the hanging lights and collection of tattered books. Oikawa smiled fondly and picked up a book rested page down on the arm of the sofa, spine crinkled and edges worn. The pages were soft from being thumbed through, ink slightly fading from the touch of fingers. Oikawa skimmed a page, getting the vaguest gist of the book; it was a murder mystery, very Iwa-chan.

There was a dog bed pushed into the far corner of the room, though by the amount of fur on the seat beside him, it didn't look like it was used very much. Oikawa's suspicions were confirmed when Sora jumped up onto the chair, big brown eyes blinking at Oikawa interestedly. She flopped down, resting her head atop her paws, ears pricked up at the noises from Hajime in the bathroom.

Oikawa plucked the comb up from the table and proceeded to drag it through his hair. It was impossible. The hairspray clung to the comb and the knots in his hair were ensnared around its teeth. He was beginning to lose his temper, getting nowhere with untangling his mess of hair. He was close to throwing the comb at the wall. Every tug at a knot and snag of sticky hair made him wince. He stood up from the sofa and made his way over to the mirror hanging on the far wall, silver frame displayed just above the waist-tall book shelf. He was right; his makeup had been running, and there were bare patches where tiny gems had peeled off. He grumbled, rubbing it stubbornly with his hands, grumbling more as he pulled them away to find his fingers were now orange with eyeshadow.

"Damnit," he groused.

He was about to continue complaining to himself when he felt something warm press against his thigh. He looked down, seeing Sora pressed her head there. Her fur, a caramel brown, intermingled with a collection of darker chocolates, deep brown eyes glancing up at Oikawa every so often. She wore a light blue colour with white spots, a little metal bone shape hanging from it with 'Sora' engraved on.

Oikawa smiled gently, bending down to better stroke the dog. Her tail swayed as he did so, running his fingers through her fur. She shifted forward, pressing her nose against his shoulder.

"She likes you." Oikawa jumped as Iwaizumi's deep voice reverberated around the room.

Sora ran toward Iwaizumi, pawing at his leg. He grinned and patted her, laughing as she excitedly nuzzled his hands. Iwaizumi looked refreshed after his shower, skin flushed from the heat. His hair was damp, a few shades darker than usual, ruffled from where he'd attempted to towel it dry. He wore a pair of baggy sweatpants and an old shirt which fitted him well, sleeves framing the shape of his muscles. Oikawa felt the just out of the shower look suited Hajime very well.

"Who doesn't?" Oikawa retorted.

"Do you want a list?" Iwaizumi leapt over the back of the sofa and laid down, splaying out across the leather.

"Well, Iwa-chan, as long as you like me then I don't think it matters!" Oikawa sung. There was a dull thud as a pillow collided with Oikawa's side. He yelped and turned to pout at Iwaizumi. "What was that for?"

Iwaizumi looked away and focused his gaze intently on the book he'd picked up. Oikawa tittered as he noticed the light flush colouring Iwa-chan's neck.

Sora jumped up into the chair next to Hajime, resting her head in his lap. He absently raised his hand and scratched the fur behind her ear. She nuzzled in closer to her owner, eyes drooping. Oikawa imagined what it would feel like to have Iwaizumi running his fingers through his own hair, maybe as he was drifting to sleep in his arms, maybe as he smiled into the crook of Iwaizumi's neck. Or maybe Iwaizumi would switch between the drag of tender fingers and the spattering of kisses like a constellation over his hair, even throw in the odd kiss behind his ear, below his jaw, at the nape of his neck, on-

"What do you want to eat? I can cook or we can order in."

"Y'know, Iwa-chan, you're not very romantic."

Iwaizumi scowled at him, "Romance isn't a limited term, Crappykawa! Romance isn't always expensive restaurants and posh perfumes and kisses in the rain. For some people, that's great, but to me those things don't sound romantic. Expensive restaurants are busy and noisy, so how would I be able to talk to you and get to know you better without shouting? I don't even know what perfume you like and I'd be worried about picking something you're allergic to, because I did that before for a guy and he had this huge allergic reaction and it was so embarrassing-"

Oikawa padded over to Iwaizumi, who didn't seem to be aware of this movement as he continued to blabber. Oikawa was stood right in front of the sofa, comb in his hand, knees brushing Iwaizumi's calves. "Iwa-chan..." he whispered, though it was drowned out by Hajime's rambling.

"And kisses in the rain? Sounds great, but in practice not so much. People can slip in rain, Oikawa, and if you stay in the rain too long you'll get a cold, plus-"

He was quickly silenced as Oikawa leant down and pressed their lips together. It only lasted a second, but that was enough to send Oikawa's heart racing as he felt the thin line of Iwaizumi's chapped lips beneath his. They were warm as he'd remembered, memories of the other evening seeping back to him as Iwaizumi pressed firmly into the kiss, hand rising to settle on Oikawa's jaw. Oikawa hummed at the feeling of the warm palm against his skin, thumb bobbing back and forth in a way that sent Oikawa's nerves soaring. They parted, resting their foreheads together, breath fluttering along the other's face, eyes half lidded and dazed.

"Order in," Oikawa breathed.

Iwa-chan blinked, "If you'd rather go out then-"

"Iwa-chan," Oikawa pressed another fluttering kiss to his lips. "If we go out how am I meant to talk to you and get to know you better?"

A fond smile graced Iwaizumi's lips, "Dumbass."

Oikawa returned to combing his hair in the mirror as Iwaizumi ordered them pizza over the phone; pepperoni for Oikawa and spicy beef for himself. He ordered a normal size for Oikawa and a large for himself, since he had a sneaking suspicion that Oikawa was going to be helping himself to his anyway. The fact that Iwaizumi understood this much about Oikawa sent a bubble of giggles to Tooru's stomach that he struggled to suppress.

"Oi," Iwaizumi called after he'd finished ordering the pizza, finally sick of watching Oikawa flinch as he tried to untangle his hair. "You're being too rough, you need to take care of yourself, not beat yourself to death with a comb."

"But it won't come out!" Oikawa whined, stamping his foot on the ground childishly.

Iwaizumi held his hand out. Oikawa rolled his eyes, but still found himself drawn closer, placing the comb in Iwa-chan's open palm. The darker haired man pointed at the floor in front of him. Oikawa sat down, back to the sofa, Iwaizumi's feet either side of him. He could feel Iwaizumi's heat rolling off of him in waves from his toned legs which framed Oikawa on the floor.

Oikawa nestled back into the warmth of Iwaizumi as a hand cupped the side of his face from behind, the other hand bringing the teeth of the comb down into his hair. The teeth scratched his scalp, knots coming loose. Iwaizumi was gentle, stopping at every knot to bring his fingers up and gently tug it loose himself so as not to unnecessarily catch it with the comb. Eventually, the comb lay completely forgotten on the floor, the only tool now Iwaizumi's own fingers. Oikawa sighed contentedly at the feel of Iwaizumi's fingers running through his hair, tangles falling away at the touch of his skin. He allowed his head to loll back into Iwaizumi's lap, staring up at him with a lazy smile. Iwaizumi's fingers traced through Oikawa's fringe, pulling the hairs back into their normal state.

"Iwa-chan?" Oikawa sighed, allowing his eyelids to flutter shut as he lost himself under to careful touch of Iwaizumi's fingers.

"Mm?"

Oikawa peeled one eye open, "What are we?"

Iwaizumi's ministrations stuttered as his eyes widened. He soon regained composure, motions resuming across Oikawa's forehead. He eventually spoke, a hint of amusement on his voice, "Humans."

Oikawa prodded Iwaizumi's foot, " _How can you be so sure?_ "

"Oh god, please don't start with your dumb alien theories again."

"One," he held his index finger up dramatically. "They aren't dumb, there's a lot of evidence to support them, thank you very much! And two," he prodded Iwaizumi with two fingers. "That isn't what I meant."

Iwaizumi exhaled heavily, "I know what you meant. What do you want to be, Oikawa?"

"Dunno," Oikawa shrugged, screwing his eyes closed in embarrassment.

"Yeah you do," Iwaizumi flicked his forehead. "You wouldn't have asked otherwise."

"Ugh, Iwa-chan, don't make me say it, it's embarassing!" Oikawa turned his head to hide his face in the side of Iwaizumi's thigh.

He felt Hajime shift in the chair, silence surrounding them for a moment. Oikawa jolted as he felt hot breath against his ear, the brush of lips tickling his lobe. Sora took this as the time to leave, claws clicking against the ground as she headed out to the kitchen. Oikawa's heart seemed to stop as Iwaizumi's lips moved against his ear, and it took him a little while to realise that these movement were words, whispered directly into his ear, to be heard and kept by him only.

"I want to look after you," Oikawa shivered at the feel of Iwaizumi's breath against his ear, bit his lip as he felt Iwaizumi press a kiss to the spot of soft skin behind his ear. "I want to take care of you. Modelling is difficult, right? I want to hold you when you get stressed. I want to look after you when people judge you, I want to be there if something goes wrong," he pressed a kiss to Oikawa's jaw. "Does that answer your question?"

Oikawa blinked up at Iwaizumi. Never before had he felt such a desperate urge to kiss someone, a _need_ to close the distance and taste, feel, hear. He gulped thickly, caught under the questioning state of Iwa-chan, hazel eyes intense with unadulterated affection.

"Yes," Oikawa's voice cracked and he internally kicked himself.

Iwaizumi smiled and tugged at Oikawa's shoulder. "C'mere," he said.

Oikawa had never moved so quickly. In a matter of seconds, he had situated himself between Iwaizumi's legs on the sofa, perched on his knees so he had an inch or so of height over him. Their foreheads were pressed together, just taking each other in for the minute. Iwaizumi gingerly rested his hands on Oikawa's sides, as though he may shatter if he gripped too firmly. Oikawa placed his hands on top of Iwaizumi's before guiding them down to his hips, where they seemed to fit perfectly against the contour of his body. Oikawa slung his arms around Iwaizumi's neck, hands finding themselves fiddling with the soft hair at the nape of Iwaizumi's neck.

Iwaizumi started with Oikawa's neck, placing flittering kisses along the soft skin. Oikawa sighed, body sinking into Iwaizumi's, tilting his head to allow further access. Each kiss drew a stuttering breath from Oikawa's lungs, an uncertain beat from his heart. But there was more than the physical side to the kisses; they meant Oikawa was wanted, meant that Iwaizumi wanted Oikawa there, that Oikawa wasn't alone anymore. He smiled to himself.

The kisses made their way up his neck, before progressing to his jaw, the discolouration on his chin, the flush of his cheeks, the chicken pox scar just below his hairline. Then soft lips brushed the corner of Oikawa's, eliciting a sharp breath from him. His eyelids fluttered, lashes licking his cheeks. It felt like forever just feeling hot breath ghosting the soft skin of his lips, waiting do Iwaizumi to close the distance.

As soon as he did, Oikawa felt warmth flush over him. Iwaizumi tasted of jam and coffee, his skin soft from his shower. It was gentle to begin with, a press of lips that sent his heart thrashing against his ribcage and his lungs struggling for breath. Oikawa's hands knotted in the back of Iwaizumi's hair, soft tendrils feeling as though they belonged between his fingers.

Their mouths moved together in perfect harmony. Iwaizumi's lips were soft and insistent, and every simple movement meant the world to Oikawa. It meant he was wanted, meant he was loved and desired. It didn't take much persuasion for Oikawa to open his mouth to Iwaizumi, territory he was willing to give him for as long as he desired it.

They were swallowing the whisper of one another's names, breaking only for breath and gentle touches of reassurance, to check that this was really happening. Their chests were pressed flush together, hearts beating against one another. Iwaizumi's hands were gently running up and down Oikawa's sides.

This was different to all of the other times Oikawa had kissed people. This meant something. This made Oikawa want more, made him feel as though he was wanted. He smiled into the kiss, the nibble of Iwaizumi's teeth making his fingers tighten in his hair.

They broke away from one another as the doorbell rang shrill through the room. The pizza. Iwaizumi lifted his hand to tuck hair behind Oikawa's ear, the gentle touch bringing an almost blinding beam to Oikawa's face.

"I should go and get that," Iwaizumi told him reluctantly.

"Mm," Oikawa pecked him on the lips once more. "You should." He removed himself from between Iwaizumi's legs and sat himself in the spot next to him.

Iwaizumi stood up to answer the door, flattening down his hair as he went. Oikawa grinned to himself and punched the air victoriously. Things were going his way.

His phone vibrated in his back pocket. Oikawa removed it to find a text from Matsukawa. He frowned and opened the message. The contents left him at a loss; should he be relieved or terrified?

**Mattsun [7:14pm]-** Heard your shoot went well this afternoon, well done. Great news, you've received an offer from a huge line in Tokyo. They saw your earlier shoot and were very impressed. You won't have to work on that farm anymore, and you'll be living it up in Tokyo! Think about it, though.

Oikawa placed his phone down on the coffee table. Sora wandered back in, laying herself across Oikawa's feet. He sighed and allowed his head to drop against the back of his chair. Things were going his way, weren't they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Okay, so first off this chapter is later than normal, and I'm soooo sorry :c I had a bit of a block when trying to write this one, plus school is a thing, so this one took a little longer than anticipated!! I have the rest of the plan written out now though, so the rest should (hopefully) be easy enough to write without any blocks...
> 
> Secondly, you may notice the rating has changed! I changed it because my original plan for the fic changed so the mature rating isn't needed anymore. It was originally for injury, but I decided not to write that, as I have a different and hopefully equally as angsty plan, mwahahaha c;
> 
> Thirdly, the title for this chapter is from an amazing song called 'Cake' by Melanie Martinez. I have been listening to her album 'Cry Baby' non-stop for the last few weeks, so I'd definitely recommend it!
> 
> Finally, thank you all so much for reading! All of your comments, kudos, messages and fanart make me smile so much and motivate me to write more. You're all so amazing and I love you all so much <3
> 
> (Also if you have posted any fanart and I haven't reblogged it then feel free to message me! A couple of people have made fanart and for some reason it doesn't show up in the tag?? Idk :c but yeah, just message me and let me know if you like ^_^)
> 
> My Tumblr: http://bealikestowrite.tumblr.com


	9. I Think We're Gonna Make It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa eats ice cream. Iwaizumi plays with mud. Suga is great. Daichi doesn't like sand.

"Bokuto, get off of my back."

Oikawa's voice was muffled by the cloth of his friend's sofa, where he'd thrown himself down in a state of loss and confusion. It was safe to say that he was feeling extremely sorry for himself- just as his life had been coming together, his undeniable beauty had thrown the proverbial hammer through his wall of comfort.

It wasn't like he'd never considered moving to Tokyo, in fact he'd dreamt of such an opportunity when he was merely a hopeful teenager. Though, he'd also dreamt of becoming a professional mountain boarder, and he wasn't sure he'd embrace that opportunity if it ever arose. But this was something that he wanted, wasn't it? He wanted to go to Tokyo, wanted to be known and loved- well, more so than he was in Miyagi, anyway. But he _wanted it_. At least that was what he'd been shouting at his reflection for half an hour straight that very morning.

He'd let the dilemma slip from his mind as soon as Iwaizumi had wandered back in with the pizza, hiding his phone in his back pocket so he didn't have to look at it. In his euphoria of just being alone with his Iwa-chan, he'd completely forgotten about the message, and certainly had no intentions of bringing it up with Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi had already been left behind once before. And so they whiled the night away, Iwaizumi laughing as stringy cheese clung to Oikawa's chin, Oikawa pouting and stealing a slice of Iwaizumi's pizza as revenge, Sora feeling very lucky as she licked loose crumbs from the floor. They sat up until it was late, sun finally submerged beneath the hills. The exhaustion of the day and the comforting smell of Iwaizumi's shower gel made his eyelids heavy, until he drifted off to sleep pressed against Iwa-chan's side, Sora curled up against his back. Iwaizumi nudged him awake, brushing his hair from his face as he suggested they take Oikawa home.

They arrived back at Oikawa's place, their way guided only by dim lampposts and half lit signs. All the forwardness of earlier that evening had left them as they stood by Oikawa's door, Oikawa leaning against the door frame as he smiled coyly at Iwaizumi through his thick lashes. They bid reluctant goodbyes, and Oikawa couldn't help the sickening feel of disappointment in his stomach, until Iwaizumi turned back around in an impulsive action, striding briskly back over to Oikawa and pulling him into one final kiss. Oikawa had never received a goodnight kiss before. The chaste brush of lips and gentle caress of hands was enough to make his knees quiver and his hands tremble.

He watched Iwaizumi go, waving smugly each time he sent a look backward. When Iwaizumi's broad figure had completely disappeared from sight, Oikawa turned and closed the door, sliding down against it as he let out an excited squeal. His heart was beating and his fingers were trembling against his flushed cheeks. He had this ridiculous urge to just stick his head out of the window and scream at innocent passersby, as he felt they had the right to know about the evening's successes. But he didn't do that, because he didn't want to disturb the lovely old lady who lived upstairs, and unlike Kuroo, he appreciated his neighbours.

He'd made his way to bed in a trance induced by the fuzzy feeling in his head and stomach. The smile on his face refused to leave even as he laid his head on his pillow. It grew wider as he recounted the day, relived the kissing, the touching, the talking, the laughing. He drifted off into a sleep full of sickeningly sweet dreams, dreams that would've been enough to make the old Iwaizumi-less Oikawa vomit. It was a wonderful sleep to accompany a wonderful evening.

But then he woke up.

He shot up in his bed as though someone had sent an electric current coursing through him. The previous issue had come flooding back to him. Did he want to go to Tokyo? Well, that wasn't really the issue. He had no problem _going_ to Tokyo; he just didn't know if he wanted to _live_ in Tokyo. Looking at his modelling prospects, that was probably the quickest and easiest way to stardom. Looking at his family and friend prospects, that was probably the quickest and easiest way to say goodbye.

He didn't know what to do.

And so, that left one Oikawa Tooru sprawled pathetically across the stripy sofa of the Bokuto and Akaashi household, contemplating his life choices and feeling generally sorry for himself. The one person who could console him was part of the dilemma, and was- according to a text Oikawa had received earlier that day- knee deep in cow excrement as they were trying to fix a fence in Mischief's field.

Bokuto was no help. He was sat on Oikawa's back in an attempt at 'squeezing the worries out'. It wasn't working. The only thing it was squeezing out was a couple of empty insults aimed at Bokuto and his hair.

"Bokuto-san, get off of Oikawa-san's back." Akaashi strolled into the room, in the most casual attire Oikawa had ever seen him in. A stripy shirt, one of Bokuto's judging by the way it was hanging loose around his neck, and a pair of jeans.

Bokuto did as he was told, leaping up from Oikawa's back as though it were made of spikes. He sunk down onto the floor, refusing to take his eyes off of the animal documentary on the TV as he nibbled on a slice of apple Akaashi had cut up for him. His golden eyes blinked in naïve wonderment as he watched birds swoop across the screen. Akaashi tapped Oikawa's feet, and he lifted them obediently. Akaashi settled down at the end of the sofa and allowed Oikawa to rest his feet on his lap. Bokuto settled back against Akaashi's legs.

"Oikawa-san," Akaashi occupied himself with trying to tame Bokuto's hair. "I understand that this is a very difficult decision for you, but I don't think hiding from it in our apartment is going to help. Nor are you going to find the answer at the bottom of an ice cream pot," he nodded at the pots strewn across the floor.

Oikawa peeled his face from the sofa. He could feel the indentation of fabric on his face and ice cream drying around his mouth. He felt, and probably looked, like a mess. He licked his lips, feeling a bit better about his life when he found a rogue chocolate chip resting on his chin. He had to enjoy the smaller things, he supposed, and if the enjoyment of his life was rendered to nothing more than licking loose ice cream embellishments off of his chin, then that was a life he'd just have to endure.

"I once found the answer at the bottom of an ice cream pot," Bokuto interjected.

Akaashi sighed, "No, you found the expiration date."

"It was the exact same date as Kuroo's birthday! You can't tell me that wasn't fate."

"There are three hundred and sixty five days in a year, it really isn't that odd that-"

" _Fate."_

Akaashi just smiled lightly and patted Bokuto's hair. Oikawa rolled the chocolate chip around his mouth, savouring the taste. He craned his neck to frown at Akaashi, who simply raised his brows in question.

Oikawa shifted himself so he was laid on his back now, propped up against the arm of the chair, feet still rested comfortably on Akaashi's lap. His phone pressed awkwardly against his backside from where it was tucked away in his pocket, an attempt to hide away from the reality of the situation. He could leave all of this behind, and start a new, perhaps even more successful life, or he could stay here where he'd- finally- made a somewhat comfortable life for himself.

"What would you do, Aka-chan?"

Akaashi flicked Oikawa's feet, "That's not fair. This decision is yours, don't let me influence you."

" _Aka-chan,_ " he whined. "That's my problem! I need someone to influence me, because I don't know what I want."

Akaashi smirked, "Yes you do."

Oikawa crossed his arms over his chest defensively. He studied Akaashi's features carefully. His long-lashed eyes were narrowed in knowing, his slender lips quirking up in a half-smirk. His fingers were lost in the depths of Bokuto's hair, absently winding the unruly spikes around his fingers.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Oikawa nudged Akaashi with his toe.

"If there wasn't something keeping you here, wouldn't you already be gone?"

Oikawa gnawed on his lip. Akaashi was right; if the opportunity had presented itself a year ago, then Oikawa would've leapt at the chance without looking back. He was used to his family not being around, what with his parents having moved to Akita and his sister overwhelmed with work. He'd do what he'd always done and write them letters, signing each with the empty claim of 'see you soon' followed by the same signature he used to satisfy the fans who occasionally thrust a picture in his face.

But now Oikawa had more. He had his friends; sure, they were people he'd stumbled upon in undesirable situations, but perhaps that was where the best friends were from? The friends who, despite what you were going through, stuck along for the ride. They didn't befriend you because they thought you were going to be easy to deal with. And they'd all stuck with Oikawa, right? Even when he was being dramatic, even when he was at his lowest, they'd all stayed with him, all sparing him thought enough to deliver him presents and offer him support. Akaashi, despite being his 'rival', had given Oikawa a job. Kuroo and Bokuto never failed to make him laugh, and when he was down, refused to leave the room before they'd made him smile even a little. Kenma killed zombies with him when he was stressed. Suga offered him comfort cake whilst Daichi gave motivational speeches.

And then there was Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi who, regardless of whether or not he'd been left behind before, opened himself to Oikawa. Of course, in doing so, he'd opened the usually defensive Oikawa up too, and perhaps that was his plan. Oikawa had never felt more vulnerable, but as a consequence of this unfamiliar exposure, he'd never felt safer. Even with the veneers of closeness he'd had before, he'd felt as though nobody made him quite as comfortable as the wonderful Iwa-chan did. Holding him when he was sad, talking to him when he was stressing, combing his hair when he was being far too hard on himself. If Iwa-chan had done that much for him, then he shouldn't be made to do more. Or since he'd done that much, he should be okay with doing just a little bit more. Oikawa didn't know. He was stuck.

" _Aka-chan_ ," Tooru whined again, prodding Akaashi's stomach with his big toe.

"I'd go," Bokuto piped up.

Akaashi frowned, his fingers stilling in his boyfriend's hair, "Why?"

"Because I met you in Tokyo."

"I really don't think that is going to help Oikawa-san make a decision." Akaashi hid a blush behind his hands.

Bokuto pouted, "It does! You looked pretty and I looked like a farmer. Oikawa looks pretty and Zumi looks like a farmer. It all makes sense."

Oikawa scrunched his nose up, "Are you sure? Because that doesn't make sense to me. At all."

"Look," Bokuto sighed in exasperation, flailing his hands about wildly. "If Tokyo worked for my love life, why won't it work for yours?"

"Because I'm not as clingy as you. I don't demand attention like you do, always seeking Aka-chan's approval."

Bokuto shifted and rested his chin on Oikawa's thigh, raising a brow at him sceptically.

"Really? You don't crave Zumi's attention and approval? At all?"

Oikawa turned his head haughtily, "Of course not! I'm a confident model, and I don't need the approval of-"

" _Oh, Iwa-chan, doesn't this shirt bring out my eyes? Iwa-chan, did you see how well I milked that cow? Look, Iwa-chan, I-"_

Oikawa jumped up from the chair, causing Bokuto to fall to the floor in a crumpled mess. He rested his hands on his hips and flicked his hair.

"Okay, so I like a compliment every now and then, what's so wrong with that?"

"I can't imagine someone like you finds it hard to get a compliment," Akaashi reached his hand out to tug Bokuto up from the floor and onto the sofa. "So why are you so determined to seek compliments from Iwaizumi-san?"

Oikawa froze. Akaashi was right, Oikawa was used to having compliments thrown at him regularly. People told him how nice his hair was, how envious his eyelashes made them, how shapely his legs were. But that was it; the compliments were nothing more than mere superficial comments meant to fuel Tooru's ego. They didn't mean anything, not really. They were all empty, lacking the emotion that usually accompanied a kind comment. They came so quickly that he became immune to what a real compliment felt like.

Until it came from Iwaizumi.

Because from him, they meant something. The words which carried so much meaning kept their meaning, instead of losing it beneath the vanity of appearance. The deep rumble of Iwaizumi's voice painted the words with a thick coat of passion, causing a tremble in Oikawa's stomach whenever they pierced his ears. The words swirled around oaken eyes, which trailed over his body as though trying to find them traced into his skin, a tattoo of loving words against flushed skin.

"Keiji I think we broke him."

"Hm, well, if we have then you'll be the one to tell Iwaizumi-san."

Bokuto's mouth dropped open in disbelief, "You'd let me take the blame?"

"I took the blame for you last time, remember? This time it's your turn."

"I told you, I did not give Gumball that whole pack of doughnuts!"

"And I told you, dogs can't open cupboards."

Oikawa ignored their conversation, instead turning and leaving the room in a hurry. He heard a thud and a grunt, presumably Bokuto hitting the floor as Akaashi stood up to follow after Oikawa. By the time he made it to the entrance, Oikawa had already wrapped a scarf around his neck and was buttoning up his coat.

"What are you going to do, Oikawa-san?"

Oikawa tucked his turquoise scarf into the neck of his duffel coat. Akaashi leant back against the wall, plucking Oikawa's gloves from the shelf to his left and handing them over. Oikawa slipped them on over his long fingers, wriggling them to make them fit comfortably. He drew his eyes up to meet Akaashi's.

"Honestly, I have no idea. Probably go home and eat more ice cream whilst debating my life decisions."

"You haven't even the faintest idea?"

Oikawa turned, his hand resting on the door handle. Bokuto was standing in the hallway now, blinking owlishly at Oikawa, fiddling with the bracelet around his wrist, the one that matched Akaashi's.

"I know I'm not about to leave Iwa-chan behind."

"So you're staying?"

"I'm not about to throw away my dream, if that's what you're asking."

Akaashi smiled, "Sounds to me like you know what you're going to do."

\---

"Oikawa, you've got a little something on your-"

"Yes, Iwa-chan," Oikawa snapped, batting Hajime's hand away from his face. "I'm aware that I have mud on my face, just as I was the first ten times you told me. No, Iwa-chan, it is not similar to a facial. Yes, Iwa-chan, it does stink. Is there anything else you'd like to say about my facial?"

Iwaizumi fell silent for a moment, lips parted as he blinked at Oikawa, clearly caught off guard by his outburst. He regained his composure, biting on his lips to hide a smirk.

"Yeah," he took a step forward, lowering his eyelids slyly. Oikawa's heart jumped as he swallowed thickly. Iwaizumi was coming closer, woodland eyes dancing over Oikawa's face. Oikawa began to reciprocate, taking a step forward in the muddy field, holding a fork in his hands and ignoring the whole unromantic vibe a faeces covered field gave off. Iwaizumi raised his hand as though to cup Oikawa's face, and Tooru found himself being pulled in closer purely by the light quirk of Iwa-chan's lips which, Oikawa had come to find, always had a light taste of sugar and cherries.

"Iwa-chan," Oikawa all but whispered as they were inches apart, Iwaizumi's breath caressing Oikawa's cheeks. Tooru blocked out the sickening stench of Mischief's mess, focusing only on the gift of a man gradually edging closer to him. "Iwa-chan, I-"

The model found himself cut off as warmth suddenly coated his right cheek. He squealed, backing away from Iwaizumi hurriedly. He brought his hand up to his face, gawping at it with a look of utmost betrayal as he found his palm covered in mud. He narrowed his eyes at Hajime, who just wiped his hands in his overalls as he smirked at Oikawa.

"There's a bit more on your face."

"You don't say," Oikawa resumed his job of tearing weeds from the field. "Y'know, Iwa-chan, you're awfully childish, playing with mud as if it's a toy! Didn't your parents ever teach you manners?"

Hajime pulled a weed from the ground with just his bare hands, sending a pointed look at Oikawa who was still struggling with the fork, "My parents taught me manners," he threw the weed at Oikawa, who hit it away disgustedly with his fork. "But they never taught me not to play with mud. Did your parents ever give you that valuable lesson?"

"Of course! We did a whole hour on it, in fact, you'd like rule number one," he waved the fork threateningly at Iwaizumi. " _don't wipe mud on other people."_

"Of course they did," Iwaizumi snorted, "It's a shame they didn't give you a lesson in being quiet, too."

Oikawa pouted, leaning on his fork and watching the way Hajime's muscles jumped each time he pulled an unwanted plant from the floor. It was evening, and they were almost done for the day, the final weeds filling the carrier bag Oikawa had loyally carried around. The sky was licked honey, the deep golden colour dropping like a fallen flame from the sky above, sun descending beneath the trees to allow the moon its time, remaining loyally behind to watch over its lover and help it to shine its brightest.

"The world would be missing out if the one and only Oikawa Tooru was," he scrunched his nose up. " _quiet_."

"This job would've been done quicker if you weren't talking all the time."

Oikawa pressed his hand to his heart, "My talking did not hinder us! I was simply enthusing us by introducing light conversation."

"I can't concentrate on weeding the field if you keep squawking in my ear all the time."

"Oh, Iwa-chan," he raised a brow in a silent challenge, "are you distracted by me?"

He was met with a pile of leaves to the face. After the cloud of browning leaves fell to the ground, Oikawa noticed the light tint to the back of Iwaizumi's neck; he smiled to himself, since eliciting a blush in another person was something he was still yet to get used to, but also a feeling he hoped he would never grow tired of. Oikawa chuckled quietly to himself, picking dried leaves from the ends of his hair as he watched Hajime, offering him the carrier bag every so often to dump a weed inside. The sun had sunk further in the sky, flimsy tendrils only just reaching above the horizon of trees as Iwaizumi finally stood up.

"Thanks for the help," Iwaizumi wiped his hands on his overall trousers, sending Oikawa a sharp look.

Oikawa slung the carrier bag over his shoulder and shoved the fork into Iwaizumi's arms, who grunted as he reluctantly took it from Oikawa.

"I detected a hint of sarcasm there, Iwa-chan."

"Hm?"

"I was very helpful today! I'm probably the most helpful person I know."

Iwaizumi nudged him with his shoulder, "You said something like that the first time you came here, y'know."

Oikawa frowned. The thick evening air ruffled his hair, like browning leaves dancing atop a strong trunk, his intelligent eyes like intricate tree hollows upon his strong face. The mud was drying around his chin, but after months of working at Karakomasai, he found it didn't bother him all too much- it was sort of like a mud facial, after all.

"You remember that far back?"

"Mm," Iwaizumi hummed thoughtfully, bringing his bottom lip behind his teeth as he tried to recall the exact words Oikawa had used. "You said you were the most hard-working person you knew. I can't say I disagree with that. I mean you overwork yourself like a damn idiot, but you always manage to come out on top. I still think you should stop putting so much pressure on yourself, but you're not going to take that advice, are you?"

Oikawa huffed. He put too much pressure on himself, this he knew, but how could he not? The world was an extremely competitive place; as soon as he stopped putting pressure on himself, he'd fall behind, and as soon as he fell behind, there'd be no point, because he'd have already lost. His family had always told him that doing his best was the only thing that mattered, that they'd always be proud of him. But what if his best wasn't enough? That was always his own unspoken question. And his own unspoken answer was to push himself to his limit and further.

If nobody else pushed him, he'd have to do it himself.

"You know I can't stop pushing myself, Hajime."

The name rolled off of his tongue as though he'd been speaking it for years, and in a way, he supposed he had been. Of course, not in the form 'Hajime', but words that Oikawa considered entirely synonymous, like 'handsome', and 'kind', and 'caring'. He hadn't spoken the name as freely as he'd spoken the words 'like' or 'love', but they all tasted the same to him.

"Why not? All you have to do is try your-"

"My best?" Oikawa scoffed. "My best is not always enough, Iwaizumi. If my best was enough, I wouldn't be standing here, would I? I'd be travelling around the world getting all of the jobs available, not a single worry on my mind. But I'm not. I'm here. I'm here because I tried my best, and it wasn't enough."

"Oikawa." The crunching of grass at Oikawa's side had stopped. He halted in his tracks, blinking at Iwaizumi who had dumped the fork on the ground. He gestured for Oikawa to come closer. Tooru did so willingly, feeling the knots in his arms loosen as Iwaizumi grabbed them, as though offering him his own physical strength.

"Oikawa," he repeated, this time softer. "Your best will always be enough. More than enough. And just because other people can't see that it doesn't mean it's worth any less."

"But that won't get me anywhere."

"Oikawa, your best will get you exactly where you deserve to go. Pushing yourself will not only make you stressed, but put you somewhere you might be unhappy."

Oikawa frowned; what was that supposed to mean? It came with a certain bitterness, a glint in Iwaizumi's eyes that would've scared Oikawa if he hadn't also been privileged enough to have seen the tender side.

Oikawa didn't like the way his lip curled, his eyebrows furrowing almost in pain. He didn't like how his hands tightened around Oikawa's arms, as though rooting him to the spot, not intending to let him go. He especially didn't like the way it made Iwaizumi distant, as though bringing safely repressed memories flooding back to him like the tumble of books from a bookshelf, words spilling themselves behind his eyes, stopping just short of passing through his lips and into the outside world.

So Oikawa took a step forward, shaking Iwaizumi's tightened hands off of his arms before gripping them in his own muddy palms. Iwaizumi's eyes cleared of the clouds of distant memories, face relaxing as his gaze met Oikawa's peacefully smiling features. Iwaizumi sighed. Oikawa squeezed Iwaizumi's hands, swinging them lightly against the wind, ignoring their discarded fork and bag.

Iwaizumi's hands were warm and calloused in his own which, despite the hours on a farm, had managed to maintain their smoothness due to his copious amounts of hand moisturiser. The way their fingers interlocked reminded Oikawa of the internal structure of a lock, all little pins fitting together perfectly, working to create something strong and wonderfully ordered. Even when a lock was opened or broken, the door it locked always opened onto something bigger, something more beautiful. Oikawa supposed that was what they were; for every lock he unpicked, every key Iwaizumi turned to unlock some more of Tooru, their relationship opened up onto something new.

This was the perfect time to say something really romantic.

"Iwa-chan," Oikawa smiled serenely. "If you keep frowning you're going to get wrinkles."

Iwaizumi kicked Oikawa in the shin before dropping his hands and turning away. He picked the fork up and strode off down the hill toward the house. Oikawa hurriedly picked up the carrier bag of weeds before running to catch up with Iwaizumi.

When they made it back to the house, it was almost dinner time. They discarded their shoes in the entryway, after having deposited their overalls in the storage room, and were promptly sent to the bathroom to clean themselves up before they even considered entering the kitchen. Daichi said he was determined to keep the farm on the outside, thank you very much, and the inside of the house must remain as clean as possible. That was easier said than done when Noya and Hinata couldn't walk two feet without getting excited and knocking something over.

"Are you two staying for dinner?" Suga asked from where he was stood in front of the oven, daisy printed apron slung around his waist. He had oven mitts- almost comically too large- hanging over his hands, covered in cartoons of horses.

Iwaizumi cast a glance at Oikawa, and when the latter answered in the affirmative, accepted Suga's request. Iwaizumi and Oikawa always entered and left the farm together. It had become almost a tradition for them, an unspoken agreement in which Iwaizumi would transport them both to work every morning, early morning conversation usually stifled by Oikawa's early morning grumpiness, evening conversation flowing as though they hadn't just spent an entire day together. Oikawa was beginning to enjoy the drone of guitars from Iwaizumi's old rock music. He was beginning to enjoy watching Iwaizumi's eyes narrow as he focused on the road. He was beginning to enjoy the wonderful butt shaped mark he was leaving in the passenger seat, since he seemed to be using it so much.

"Where's Daichi?"

Suga turned to grimace at Iwaizumi, "Kuroo knocked over a fence. They're trying to fix it before the herd can escape and wander into the old orchard again."

"Did Ushijima-san ever forgive them for that?"

"I suppose so," Suga shrugged, "he has cows of his own, so I'm sure he understands. Though his cows are probably better behaved... I mean that's not particularly difficult, but still."

Suga pulled the oven open, the smell of freshly roasted meat hitting Oikawa's nose. He smiled lazily as he rested his chin on the table, stretching out like a cat in the sun. He was just getting comfortable splayed across the tablecloth when he felt a sharp knock to the back of his head. Oikawa huffed and turned his head, shrinking away as he met Iwaizumi's disapproving scowl.

"Sit up, you're being impolite."

The brunet sighed, pulling himself up from the table. He smiled pointedly at Iwaizumi as he sat as rigidly as he possibly could in his chair, showing Iwaizumi just how polite he could be. Iwaizumi kicked him under the table.

Suga hummed lightly as he served them their meal, plating up a spare dish for Daichi and the others when they finally returned. When Suga sat down opposite them, Oikawa noticed the obvious absence of a ring on his finger. Mid-chew, Oikawa leant forward in his seat, ignoring Iwaizumi's disapproving glare. Suga cocked his head at the model, ashen hair falling into oaken eyes.

"No ring?" Oikawa asked bluntly. Iwaizumi choked on his food, kicking Oikawa under the table once more for being impolite. He was definitely going to have a bruise there later, but he couldn't find it in him to care.

Suga smiled, "Not yet."

"I hope you've asked him for a very expensive ring, since he's made you wait so long."

"Of course!" Suga smiled sweetly. "I've told him I'll accept nothing less than 200,000 yen."

Oikawa rested his head in his palms, lips quirking slyly. He liked Koushi. He was a man of his own tastes. Sugawara smiled back in an equally crafty manner, eyes glinting with mischief for the second time since Oikawa had met him. Again, he liked Koushi. He may have had the exterior of an angel, but the cheeky interior made for an interesting combination- he could literally get away with anything.

"200,000 yen," Oikawa pondered aloud, tapping his fingers against his chin. "I think I'd go for a solid 300,000."

Suga nibbled on a carrot, "Oh, you think Iwaizumi would buy you a 300,000 yen ring?"

There was a desperate sputtering from Oikawa's right as Iwaizumi seemed to forget how to breathe, slamming his glass back down on the table as he attempted to steady his breathing once more. Oikawa patted his back as Suga snickered behind his hand, smirk playing along his seemingly innocent lips. When Iwaizumi regained his composure, he swatted Oikawa's hand away from his back, hiding his flushed face as he shovelled food into his mouth. Oikawa chewed on his bottom lip to stop himself chuckling.

"How are Yachi and Kiyoko?" Oikawa asked.

"Good," Suga replied over the rim of his glass. "We got a postcard the other day, they're having an amazing time. They've been spending day after day at the beach," he sighed wistfully, ashen hair shimmering under the declining afternoon sun. "How romantic!"

Oikawa finished his meal, sitting back in his seat and resting his hands on his stomach, licking his lips. He leant over and plucked a piece of meat from Iwaizumi's plate, who didn't so much as bat an eyelid. He was probably expecting it, since Tooru had made a habit of stealing his food.

"Have you convinced Dai-san that a beach wedding is the best?"

Suga huffed, loose tendrils of hair drooping into his eyes as if sharing in his sulking. His bottom lip popped out in a comical pout.

"No, he still thinks the sand will attack everyone. He also has a fear of turtles."

"A fear of turtles?"

Before Suga could answer, there was the slam of a door and the scuffling of claws against the carpet. Within seconds, a familiar whir of hair hurtled into the kitchen, front paws jumping up to Suga's lap. Gumball's tail wagged wildly, tongue lolling out of his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut as Suga scratched behind his ear, only leaving him to stand at Daichi's side as he wandered into the kitchen, exhausted from a long day at work.

Suga turned and puckered his lips, receiving a quick peck from Daichi. A simple nod of Suga's head informed Daichi that his food was perched on the counter. It was amazing to watch, the private language between them, a language created and perfected with years of love and devotion. Oikawa wondered if he'd ever have something so intricate with Iwaizumi. He supposed they had something like that, since without speaking, Iwaizumi could easily portray his annoyance at Oikawa- usually with a disgruntled look or obscene gesture. But that was beside the point.

"A fear of turtles?" Oikawa tilted his head as Daichi sat down opposite him.

Daichi looked taken aback for a second, before rolling his head to glare unimpressed at his boyfriend. Suga just shrugged his shoulders. Daichi's shoulders heaved in a sigh.

"It's not a fear of turtles," he took a deep breath, "it's just a strong dislike of sea creatures in general."

"But they can't hurt you?" Iwaizumi piped up.

"Says the guy who has a fear of tomatoes."

"It's not a fear of tomatoes," he interjected as his face flushed, completely aware of Oikawa's shocked gape. "It's just a strong dislike of any food that can't decide whether it's a fruit or a vegetable."

"That's worse than not liking sea creatures!"

"How? Tomatoes are gross, sea animals are cute."

The table fell silent as a familiar tune played from Oikawa's pocket. X-files. He still hadn't changed it. He quickly excused himself from the table, but not before helping himself to some more food from Iwaizumi's plate. Daichi's eyes widened at Oikawa's bold move, eyebrows waggling at Iwaizumi at his lack of protest.

Oikawa flicked his phone open once he entered the living room, almost certain that he was out of earshot. The screen declared it was a call from the model's manager. Tooru gulped; he still hadn't entirely decided what he wanted to do.

"Mattsun!" He plastered his face with a smile, despite the fact Matsukawa couldn't see him. Lying about his feelings externally helped him to lie to himself internally. "And to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Oikawa, drop the act, you know what this is about."

Oikawa sighed heavily and flopped down onto the closest sofa, hugging a pillow to his chest, well-practiced smile slipping from his lips. He heard shifting on the other side of the phone and a light bickering as Hanamaki fought to get close enough to the phone.

"Ugh, yeah, I know what this is about. So you just want a yes or no?"

Matsukawa inhaled deeply, "Oikawa, look, the way I see it, if you really wanted to go, wouldn't you have made your mind up by now?"

"On the contrary, my dear Mattsun, if I _didn't_ want to go, wouldn't I have made up my mind by now?"

"So what do you want?"

Oikawa pondered for a second.

"The best of both worlds. I want to go to Tokyo and I want to stay with my friends. Is that too much to ask?"

"Unfortunately, that's going to be very difficult and- Hanamaki, I swear to god, if you get any crumbs on my desk I will-"

Oikawa ran a hand down his face and sighed dramatically. There was a thump, presumably Hanamaki being pushed onto the floor. Scratching dominated the call as the pair fought over the phone. Oikawa was forced to pull the phone away from his ear at one point, as Matsukawa cursed loudly at his colleague.

"I hate to interrupt this lover's tiff," Oikawa cleared his throat. "But I sort of have a crisis here? You know, the future of my life and everything, no big deal-"

"Why don't you just talk to your farmer man?"

It was Hanamaki now. Matsukawa was still fighting for the phone, as could be heard from the string of muffled curses and threats in the background. Still, Oikawa was uncertain of what Hanamaki's job was, but the arguments the pair had offered unending entertainment.

"Because it's my choice."

"Yeah, but sometimes talking to people helps you to make a decision. That's the funny thing about talking, Oikawa, sometimes it can be helpful. Alternatively, sometimes it can't, like that time you spoke for an hour straight about your farmer man's arms-"

"Iwa-chan has very nice arms," Oikawa interjected defensively.

"I'm sure he does, but you can only spend so long describing a man's arms before it gets a bit repetitive."

"You're not helping."

"Ah, I think you'll find I am. Think of those arms. Think of either seeing them everyday and getting used to them, or think of seeing them when you come back from Tokyo on occasion, and getting an extra-special hug from them. Which would you rather have?"

"Both sound good," he groaned, "I can't decide! I want to go to Tokyo, but I want to stay with the people I love. I want to stay with Iwa-chan."

"You have an hour to decide."

The line died in the most melodramatic manner. He slammed his head back against the sofa and groaned. He wanted to model. He wanted to model nice clothes, not specifically in Tokyo, but anywhere that offered him nice clothes to model and pretty makeup to wear. He wanted to be on magazines or adverts, posters or artwork. But at the same time, the materialism of these desires ran dry when he had nobody to enjoy them with. He'd be alone in Tokyo. Again.

He wanted to stay with his friends. He wanted to stay with his Iwa-chan. He wanted to see his family again, to ask them what he should do, what their thoughts were. He wanted to talk to his sister, wanted to ask her whether she like their clothes, whether she thought Oikawa should model them. He wanted to feel as though he wasn't alone.

"I hope you're not planning on staying."

"How long have you been there?"

"Long enough to know that you'd be making a mistake if you didn't go. Again, I hope you're not planning on staying."

Oikawa peeled his head from the sofa. He blinked away the bright light from the hallway which filtered around Iwaizumi's silhouette. He had a look of annoyance on his face, mixed with eyes of disbelief.

"Mean, Iwa-chan, do you not want me here?"

Oikawa pulled his legs up to his chest. Iwaizumi made his way over to the sofa, standing imposingly in front of Oikawa, wonderful arms crossed over an equally wonderful chest.

"Not if you'd rather be modelling in Tokyo. I don't want you throwing this chance away on my behalf. And nobody else here would want you to throw it away on their behalf."

"But I don't know-"

"Oikawa," Iwaizumi sighed and knelt down in front of Oikawa, pulling his knees away from his face. "What have you always wanted to do?"

"Something I love."

"Which is?"

Oikawa rolled his eyes, "Modelling."

Iwaizumi nodded. Oikawa reached down and took Iwaizumi's hands, tracing meaningless patterns along his palms, meaningless patterns that meant everything. They meant he appreciated him, enjoyed having him close, liked talking to him.

"Then I don't see what the problem is. Go to Tokyo and do what you love."

Oikawa's grip on Iwaizumi's hands tightened. The farmer frowned, sensing the increased tension, squeezing Oikawa's hands back lightly. A whimper of despair escaped Oikawa's lips as he was torn between the two choices. Their hands intertwined, Oikawa felt calmer, especially as Iwaizumi's thumb stroked over the soft skin at the back of Oikawa's hand, an unconscious habit he'd developed which simultaneously calmed Oikawa and made his heart stutter.

"What's wrong?"

Oikawa was debating whether to tell him, but the softness of Iwaizumi's eyes drew it out of him. Tooru shuffled toward the edge of the sofa, closer to Hajime, hands still interlocked.

"You told me you didn't want to be left behind again. I'm leaving you behind."

Iwaizumi blinked. A smile tugged his lips as he understood what Oikawa was talking about. He squeezed Oikawa's hands once more, causing the model to meet his eyes. They stared at each other for a while, before Iwaizumi spoke.

"You're not leaving me behind. You think I'm going to let you leave me behind?"

"But your ex-"

"Left me behind because he changed. You're not changing, just moving."

"I'll be hours away," Oikawa moped.

Iwaizumi dropped Oikawa's hands. He pushed himself up from the floor and perched himself on the chair next to Tooru. He smelt of freshly cut grass and dried leaves. His hair was windswept and skin toughened and smoothened by varying weather conditions. His eyes were calming, devoid of their usual grumpiness.

"And we can call each other. Video chat. Meet up halfway at weekends. Hang out when you have time off. You can leave me here, but don't leave me here and leave me behind. Leave me here and promise to talk to me, to keep me with you even when I'm not there."

Oikawa giggled and shuffled toward Iwaizumi. Hajime reached up and pushed some loose hair from Oikawa's face, tucking it behind his ear. Oikawa leant into the touch and smiled sweetly.

"That was so cheesy, Iwa-chan."

Iwaizumi shrugged, "You don't seem too bothered."

Oikawa leant forward and pressed a fleeting kiss to Iwaizumi's cheek. A flush crawled its way across the man's features, though it was significantly less noticeable than the first few times they'd kissed; Oikawa smiled, they were getting comfortable with each other.

"It helped."

Another kiss to Iwaizumi's cheek.

Thank you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg wow. I am so sorry. I haven't updated in a while... school work kinda piled up all of a sudden and I had to prioritise that o: but most of it is done now, so hopefully the next update shouldn't take as long!!
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for all your support, I love you all c:
> 
> Also I'm planning on writing a dance au.
> 
> Talk to me on tumblr!! https://bealikestowrite.tumblr.com


	10. I'll Be Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo and Bokuto visit. Iwa-chan has feelings too. Oikawa says goodbye.

Chapter 10

The boxes stood high around the apartment, each stack a daunting reminder of what was to come. There were mere outlines of the glowing stars that used to decorate his bedroom ceiling like a mosaic, all peeled off and thrown into the bin before Iwa-chan had the chance to see them and laugh at Oikawa's childishness. His walls were bare aside from a few marks that the sticky tape had made, and a slight crack in the wall from the time he'd tripped over and sent the vanity chair crashing into the wall. His carpet was newly vacuumed, his bed shifted to the left ever so slightly so as to hide the stain he'd left on the floor after knocking a drink over. His cupboards were empty and his clothes were packed. He was hungry.

Oikawa sighed and tore his gaze away from the bizarrely empty room. Its barren walls sent an uncomfortable shiver down his spine, the remnants of the life he had once lived there now stuffed away in boxes or in the bin. He wiggled his bare toes against the carpet and rubbed his arms as though trying to fight off a chill; he wasn't entirely sure what the uncomfortable cold rising from the pit of his stomach meant, but he was sure that it wasn't normal. He chose to ignore it, instead turning on his heel and leaving his bedroom.

Two suitcases were standing in the hallway. One was stuffed full of clothes, the other full of trinkets, memories, and an endless accumulation of all things undeniably _Tooru_. They were all he was taking. The cardboard boxes were going to one of two places; those marked with a jarring red cross would be making their way to the trash, whilst the rest would be kept in Matsukawa's office cupboard until they could be transferred to Tokyo with him. Two suitcases seemed hardly enough to last him, but they were all he was able to bring for the time being. He'd had trouble zipping them shut, and eventually enlisted the help of Kuroo and Bokuto, which in essence just included Bokuto sitting on the suitcase and shouting words of encouragement at Kuroo as he tried to zip it shut. Their method, although unorthodox, did work, and as an unavoidable act of thanks, Oikawa had been forced to order them an extra large pizza of their choosing.

Recalling the memory of his friends laughing and grinning sent a piercing cold shard through Oikawa's heart. His eyes prickled with unshed tears and his hands tingled with nerves. He blinked back the unwanted waves of sentimentality he had formed from his attachment to Karakomasai. The place he had initially despised was now dear to his heart, with its homely little cottage and comically unique employees. Daichi and Suga assured him that he would be welcome to visit at any time. Hinata had gushed at him about how cool Tokyo would be, Kageyama standing behind warily and nodding Oikawa a solemn yet respectful goodbye.

His backpack was thrown down beside the two suitcases, stuffed full with a plethora of intriguing items. A slice of cake from Suga, wrapped up carefully to keep him satisfied on the train journey. The owl toy Bokuto and Kuroo had bought him, Kuroo's friendship bracelet hanging around its neck. A little book from Yachi full of pictures of the wedding, including a beautiful shot of him dancing with Iwaizumi. The first time he'd seen that picture he couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine or the blush that tinted the tips of his ears; the awestruck look Hajime was giving him as they danced was enough to set butterflies flitting around his stomach.

It seemed like forever as he stood in the bland hallway, blinking dazedly at his belongings stowed away safely. He was torn from his reverie only by the shrill ringing of his doorbell. Adjusting his glasses on his nose, he padded over to the front door to greet his visitors. He almost wished he hadn't as he was met with the sight of Bokuto and Kuroo in the doorway, donning matching varsity jackets and wiggling their eyebrows daringly.

"What do you want?" Oikawa leant against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest.

Bokuto pouted, "Aren't you going to ask us about our jackets?"

Oikawa glanced down at the jackets. The chest was rose red, the protruding sleeves a contrasting snow white before ending in a black hem with golden lining. Bokuto had embellished the front of his jacket with a little owl brooch, golden eyes staring unblinkingly at Oikawa. It made him feel a little uneasy. Kuroo had attempted to stitch on a little cat, although his less than excellent handiwork was quite literally falling apart at the seams, black thread hanging loose from the edges.

"What, have you started some sort of club?" Oikawa pouted sceptically.

"Yeah!" Bokuto punched the air. "And you're an honorary member!"

"Don't I get to know what this club entails, though? I don't want to join some kind of bizarre club, especially not with the likes of you two."

Kuroo tilted his head, "I'm offended, Kawa-chan, do you not trust us?"

Oikawa smirked and turned abruptly, gesturing over his shoulder for the pair to follow. He heard the door click shut behind him and a scuffling as Kuroo and Bokuto rushed to beat the other to take their shoes off.

"Not in the slightest, Hair-chan," he chirped, spinning around again to shoot the pair a blinding smile. "Again, what are you two doing here? I've already told you that I'm done fuelling your insatiable desire for pizza, so-"

"We're here for your initiation!" Bokuto clapped, voice booming off of the bare walls.

Oikawa huffed dramatically. He turned away from the pair, ignoring the whine of protest from Bokuto. On entering the kitchen, he reached up and grabbed himself an energy bar, figuring he'd need all of the energy he could get to be able to deal with the pair.

"This initiation," Oikawa spoke around a mouthful of food as he reentered the living room. "What exactly does it include?"

Bokuto and Kuroo had already made themselves comfortable. Kuroo was sprawled out along the sofa, leg reaching over the arm of the chair to kick Bokuto every now and then. Bokuto eventually retaliated with a pillow to Kuroo's head, which was thrown back and forth through the air a number of times before Oikawa snatched it away and sent the pair a pointed look. He sat down between them so as to avoid any future incidents. Kuroo shuffled over and rested his head on Oikawa's shoulder, blinking up at him innocently. Oikawa knew better than to expect innocence from Kuroo, and instead glared down at him as he took another bite from his energy bar.

Kuroo sat back up and crossed his legs as he grinned at Tooru, "It's fairly easy, all you have to do is prove that you are our true friend."

Oikawa barked out a laugh. As a result, half-chewed energy bar flew everywhere, primarily all over Kuroo. Tetsurou's face was one of disgust as he brushed crumbs off of his front. Bokuto was howling with laughter, gripping onto Oikawa's arm and shaking it roughly. There was a bump as Bokuto toppled off of the chair and landed in a mass on the floor, still chuckling quietly to himself. Kuroo flicked a crumb at Oikawa.

"What was that for?" He raised a thin brow, kicking Bokuto who had erupted into another stream of giggles.

"It just made me laugh, the idea that you believe I _want_ to be your true friend."

Bokuto shot up at this. He shuffled over to Oikawa and planted his chin on the model's knee, golden eyes chipped with amber staring sadly up at him. Kuroo patted his friend's head, haughtily staring at Oikawa down his nose. Strands of fluffy hair tickled Oikawa's arm as Bokuto leant into him, bottom lip quivering melodramatically.

"And to think I made you a _friendship bracelet_." Kuroo pointed at him accusingly.

"I was going to get a picture of you tattooed on my back!"

Oikawa frowned, "You what?"

"My friend tattoo," Bokuto spoke slowly, as though this were a concept that Oikawa shouldn't be finding so difficult to grasp. "Akaashi in the centre, Kuroo riding a horse to the right with Kenma standing on the back, and you off to the left running from a herd of cows that Zumi is leading."

Oikawa's mouth hung open in bewilderment, blinking confusedly at the spiky haired man. Bokuto just stared back at him, thick brows furrowing as he tried to understand just why Oikawa was so confused. The almost childlike innocence that bestowed itself upon Bokuto's face made Oikawa chuckle lightly to himself. It was almost admirable, the way in which Bokuto allowed his optimism to lead his decisions, not worrying about consequences but just embracing the opportunity as it arose. Some would scold this behaviour, Tooru thought, but he instead envied the seemingly relaxed attitude it introduced in Bokuto's life. Although, as he'd heard from Keiji, this naïve optimism sometimes came crashing down, leaving Bokuto terribly dejected. Oikawa presumed that this carefree attitude Bokuto adopted allowed him to avoid this state for as long as possible.

"Anyway, enough about that _totally sick_ tattoo," Kuroo raised his fist and grinned widely as Bokuto punched it as though the action were instinctual, "we're not here to talk about that," he ran his hand back through his inky hair, lopsided grin lighting his features. "You're our friend whether you like it or not. You signed that contract as soon as you entered the farm's gates, pal."

Oikawa screwed his nose up in mock disgust. Kuroo shoved him playfully on the shoulder, causing Oikawa to break out in a cheek-aching grin. In reality, Oikawa was glad he'd befriended the chaotic pair. His life had been so structured, so ordered and _repetitive_ before Karakomasai, before he'd met Bokuto and Kuroo and the rest of the employees. Of course, structure wasn't necessarily a bad thing, it made things easier for him; but waking up everyday and expecting the same thing, performing the same tasks, became dreary and boring. Even the people he'd called friends didn't offer him any variety, only wanting to go out every night and while away the darkened sky. They'd never played video games with him, or watched terrible movies with him, or run away from cows with him, or sprung a surprise initiation test on him.

"If I'm already your friend, why do I need to do an initiation to prove that I'm your true friend?" Oikawa pointed out, stretching his legs to place his feet on Kuroo's lap.

"Because true friends are forever," Kuroo leant forward to tap Oikawa's nose. "And we paid a lot of money for these jackets, so we need to know that you are deserving of one."

Oikawa sighed dramatically. The pair weren't leaving anytime soon, and so he may as well humour them. He leant back into the chair, relaxing against the softness of familiar cushions. Kuroo grinned triumphantly. Bokuto shifted to rest his chin more comfortably on Oikawa's thigh.

"You have to pass the friendship test."  Bokuto prodded Tooru's thigh.

"Fortunately I have come prepared!" From behind him, Kuroo presented a magazine which appeared to be opened to a quiz page of sorts, brightly coloured kanji scribbled all over the page.

"Kuroo, is that a teen gossip magazine?" Oikawa's lips curved into an amused smirk.

The pages were brightly coloured, almost blinding with the sharp pinks and oranges. Some new boy group were posing on the cover, either making hearts or peace signs with their hands in a way Oikawa found most offensive; they weren't even doing it right, they were no challenge for a professional such as himself. The border of the cover was lined with little bubbles, each one containing a little snippet of the magazine's contents; _is your best friend really your best friend? Find out on page 29!_ and _melt the snow with the hottest fashion this winter!_.

Kuroo snapped the cover away from Oikawa's view and narrowed his eyes at him. Oikawa hid a snicker behind his hand.

"No, it's not a teen gossip magazine," he retorted. "It's a highly respected friendship test, and it would do you well to not insult the friendship gods."

"Bro, just ask the first question already!" Bokuto pushed himself up onto his knees,  bouncing impatiently.

Kuroo pretended to push a pair of glasses up the ridge of his nose as he coughed dramatically. Oikawa prodded him in the chest with his toe. Kuroo batted him away with the friendship gods.

"Don't panic, Tooru, it's not like our friendship is hanging in the balance or anything. Right, question one. Is your best friend taller than you?"

"Are we counting your hair? Because I'm not gonna lie, but those gravity defying hairstyles the two of you have are kinda cheating."

Kuroo blinked up at his hair, "Yes we are counting my luscious mane, because it is a part of who I am. You may call it cheating, but I call it resourceful."

"Well then yes, you're both taller than me."

The duo punched the air in almost eerie unison, cheering at Oikawa about how he'd passed step one, and that they were now at least 20% certain that he deserved the jacket. Oikawa felt less than prepared for the final 80%.

Kuroo cleared his throat before continuing, "Who is your best friend's idol?"

Oikawa picked at a loose bit of thread on the sofa. He had no idea what time it was, he realised, the only light in the room coming from the dying lightbulb above them. Usually the room would be drenched in gold, the sun's rays dancing along the floor and making everything look like a palace- like home. The calming light was now swallowed by plumes of grey that had accumulated across the bleak sky, the once cosy room now grey and suffocating around them. He shook his head lightly before drawing his attention back to Kuroo.

"Honestly, I'd like to think you'd both put me."

Kuroo snorted, "Three Oikawas. Sounds like hell."

Oikawa drew a hand to his chest in shock. Kuroo kicked him. The friendship between the pair was a truly beautiful one.

"Bokuto probably put some owl enthusiast. Or Akaashi."

Bokuto squeaked like he'd been pinched. He pointed up at Oikawa, as though he'd committed some form of unspeakable offence. The model raised a finger to point back at him, and thus some form of bizarre communication began in which Oikawa was completely lost. Bokuto's mouth flapped like a door caught in a gale.

"Hey, dude, get a grip!" Kuroo swatted the magazine at the gawping man.

"How did he know?"

Oikawa shrugged, "I'm a genius."

It was Oikawa's turn to be swatted now. He batted the magazine and glowered at Kuroo. Kuroo grinned. The friendship gods were giving him too much power.

The dim light of the room barely lit his face, the jagged outline of his hair causing a juxtaposition of light and dark across his cheeks, like the meeting of dull rock with glowing magma. He looked almost scheming in the way the light cast deep shadows beneath his eyes. His conniving grin revealed sharp teeth, adding to his menacing look. Oikawa thought again about how he certainly wouldn't want to get on Kuroo's bad side.

"So, who's my role model?"

"I'm guessing it's not a hairdresser." Oikawa commented snidely.

"Ouch."

"I don't know. Paul Phoenix?"

Kuroo glowered at Tooru again, "Look, are you taking this seriously or are you just going to spend all afternoon insulting my hair?"

Oikawa shrugged, "Honestly, Phoenix wouldn't be a bad choice. Imagine having muscles like that."

"You'd have to have big muscles like his to hold all that hair up!" Bokuto piped in from where he was sprawled across the floor, hair strewn about like a lick of steel flames as he drummed his fingers on his stomach. The bracelet he always wore around his wrist glinted dimly. There were pale lines across his wrist from where the bracelet had shifted, skin which had been covered by the bracelet during his long days working under the sun and so had not tanned. It would have been comical to see these lines, if not for the truly sentimental story they beheld; a bracelet, never removed, a lover, never alone.

"Okay, they do have big muscles," Kuroo prompted.

"Paul Ph-" Bokuto was met with a pillow to the face.

"They have big muscles and they _are not_ from a videogame."

"Iwa-chan!" Bokuto squawked.

"Nope, their thighs are more muscular."

"Iwa-chan!" It was Oikawa this time, voice unnaturally high as he shot up in his chair. Kuroo was about to reiterate how, no, he was not talking about Iwa-chan, and he had no idea why the pair kept repeating his name like parrots stuck on a loop, when he realised they were both blinking at something behind him. Oikawa's eyes were full of wonder as he leapt over the back of the chair and threw himself into Iwaizumi's arms. Iwaizumi stumbled as he adjusted to Oikawa's form, resting his hands on the other's arms, shifting slightly to glare over his shoulder at the pair. Bokuto's eyes were, aptly, filled with nerves.

"Didn't Daichi send you here like an hour ago? To move Oikawa's stuff?"

Bokuto jumped up from the floor, his back straight as though he were propped up by a rod. He rubbed the back of his neck and laughed anxiously.

"Is that what we were here for?"

"Come on Zumi, we're just having a bit of fun before Oikawa leaves!" Kuroo waved his hand nonchalantly, magazine papers rustling.

Iwaizumi huffed, chest rising and falling against Oikawa. Tooru caught Iwaizumi's eyes, which widened comically when Oikawa pressed a wet kiss to his cheek. Ears tinted red, he turned his face into his shoulder, though this only exposed the relentless blush crawling up the back of his neck. Oikawa giggled and attempted to lay another kiss on Iwaizumi's skin. The shorter man attempted to push him away, though his efforts were half-hearted as he snickered quietly.

Tooru's actions were eventually halted when Iwaizumi grabbed his wrists in his hands, calloused skin against vulnerable flesh, and held his hands down at his sides. Oikawa just grinned. Iwaizumi was here. He'd promised to spend time with Oikawa on his last day in Miyagi, had said he'd come as quickly as he could after work. And he had, it appeared. Not even half an hour after he'd officially finished work and he was already standing in front of Oikawa, hair soft from a shower and smelling strongly of his deodorant and shampoo.

Iwaizumi unfurled his fingers from around Oikawa's wrist to run them up his arms. Oikawa smiled at the contact, gaze softening as Hajime rubbed his arms gently, eyes scanning his face for any signs of distress.

"You feeling okay?" He asked, eyes stained with emerald still skimming over his face curiously.

"Of course!" He chirped. His falsified composure fell a little as Iwaizumi continued to look at him levelly. "Nervous, but okay. I'll be okay."

Their bubble of privacy was burst as something soft collided with Oikawa's back. He turned around quickly, spotting a pile of red on the floor. On picking it up, he realised it was a jacket to match that of Kuroo's and Bokuto's, only with a peace sign stitched onto the breast instead. He glanced up at his friends, who were rushing to clamber over the back of the sofa and fill their arms with cardboard boxes.

"Don't you want to finish the questions?" Oikawa called.

The pair shook their heads in synch. Kuroo had five boxes stacked on top of one another, Bokuto stumbling about with four.

"No thanks, we're getting out of this place as quickly as we can. Too much PDA if you ask me."

Bokuto nodded his head in agreement, unable to talk as a box pressed against his face.

"But the friendship test-?"

"Like you said, you're already our friend, so you shouldn't need a test to prove that."

"Welcome to the Karakomasai Crew!" Bokuto's voice was almost inaudible against cardboard.

Kuroo shot him a look, "We didn't decide on that name."

"Do you have any better ideas?"

The pair exited the apartment whilst bickering, slamming the door shut behind them. It was just the couple left now, Oikawa grasping the jacket in his hand and Iwaizumi standing quietly behind him.

"So," Iwaizumi cleared his throat. "What do you wanna do?"

Oikawa slipped the jacket on over his arms. It fit perfectly, and was actually surprisingly comfortable. He pulled the sleeves over his hands out of habit. He then sauntered over to Iwaizumi, a smirk on his lips as he wrapped his arms around Iwaizumi's neck.

"Hm, what do you have in mind?"

Iwaizumi flushed under Oikawa's touch, although his blush was nothing compared to the level of Oikawa's when Hajime pressed his hands to his hips, thumbs nudging under his shirt slightly to rub circles against his skin. Tooru sighed and melted closer to Iwaizumi, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

"D'you wanna see a movie?"

Oikawa grinned slyly, "Oh, a hot make-out session in the movie theatre?" He winked.

"Well we could, but then you'd miss the whole plotline of Star Wars, so-

"Iwa-chan, you're taking me to see Star Wars?"

"Only if you want to."

Oikawa pulled away from Iwaizumi and darted to the door to hurriedly pull on his shoes. Hajime followed him, amused smile on his face as he watched Oikawa struggle as he rushed to tie his laces. When he was done, he leapt up, grasping Iwaizumi's firm hand in his own.

"Ready?"

"Mhm."

\-----

They laid sprawled out across the couch, empty takeout boxes strewn across the coffee table. Iwaizumi's head was rested in Oikawa's lap, eyes shut as he allowed Oikawa to run slender fingers through his spiked hair. Tooru's other hand was resting on Iwaizumi's stomach, knuckles being slowly traced by Iwaizumi's index finger.

From this angle, Oikawa could truly appreciate Iwaizumi's stoic beauty, in the way the sharp bones of his face were complimented by the more gentle curve of his dark lashes and swoop of his soft hair. The way his thin lips, which probably tasted distinctly of curry after their meal, parted lightly over his teeth. A liquid silver tear decorated his face in the form of a scar through his eyebrow. A pool of red graced his cheeks and ears, some even creeping down to the long column of his neck. The expanse of skin that protruded from his shirt collar revealed the strong muscles of his neck, the kissable skin across the hollow of his throat and dip of his collarbones. Oikawa's fingers danced away from Iwaizumi's hair and trailed along the prominent features of his face, as though attempting to map it out in his memory.

Oikawa had been shocked when Iwaizumi had thrown his weight into his lap, snuggling into the softness of his thigh. It was a side of Iwaizumi he wasn't used to seeing, one he didn't think he'd ever get used to seeing, or ever get bored of seeing. It was unbridled affection. They were alone; there was no need to hide this from prying eyes, no need to distance themselves and pretend.

This honesty, this willingness to be so close and so true to one another, it filled Oikawa with confidence. And so, as his fingers trailed along the hollow of Iwaizumi's cheek and gradually made their way to run over his lips, he began to talk, words that had stung his throat for far too long, words that were constricting and painful. Hajime's eyes fluttered open, lips parting slightly under the touch of Oikawa's fingers, absently pressing a kiss to the soft pads of his fingers as he stared into Oikawa's eyes.

"Iwa-chan," his voice cracked. He hated being so damn emotional all of the time. "Will you miss me?"

Iwaizumi's eyes dropped shut. A sigh shook his body, and Oikawa finally felt as though he'd crossed the limit. He'd irritated Iwaizumi too much with his insecurities. He'd shown Hajime his true side, flaws and insecurities attached, and that had put him off. Just like it had done with everybody else before him, everybody else who hadn't even deigned to give Oikawa a chance because someone like him was too much effort, required too much reassurance and care. Oikawa swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Sorry, pretend I didn't ask."

Iwaizumi sighed again, sitting up now and swiveling around so he was facing Oikawa. He tugged on the taller man's sleeve, silently urging him to turn so they could fully face one another.

_This is it_ , Oikawa thought, _he's going to tell me I'm too much trouble. He's going to break it off before he becomes too involved. It'll be easier that way anyway._

"I'm being selfish," Iwaizumi stated.

"You are?" Oikawa scratched his cheek

Iwaizumi nodded, "Yeah, selfish. Honestly I was hoping you wouldn't want to talk about Tokyo."

"Why?"

Iwaizumi shrugged, strong gaze torn from Oikawa. His eyes lowered, eyelids closing over the mountain of hidden emotions that Oikawa hadn't been observant enough to see, emotions Iwaizumi hadn't _wanted_ anyone to see. It struck Oikawa that perhaps Iwaizumi's willingness to support other people, his determination to ensure that everyone else around him was happy and content, stemmed from his own weaknesses. It was this that made Oikawa's heart drop into his stomach, guilt crawling across his skin like a bad omen as he reached out to touch Iwaizumi's arm.

"Why, Iwa-chan?"

Iwaizumi shrugged again, the action this time accompanied by a dismissive grunt. He was running his finger back and forth along the back of the sofa and gnawing on his lips. Tooru wondered how many secrets these lips had held back, how many they'd hidden behind the strong wall of his teeth and plush curve of his smile. He wondered how many people had drawn out the secrets, how many people had taken them like precious pearls and strung them around his neck, using them against him.

"Hajime?"

His shoulders stiffened and the robotic  swish of his finger halted. His eyes opened wide, as though seeing Oikawa for the first time; as though recognising that Oikawa was not the man that hurt him, not the man that dragged his secrets from his throat and stamped on them when he'd had his fun. Oikawa was different. As flamboyant and loud as he was, he was not dishonest. He was not a liar, or a manipulator. He was Oikawa Tooru, the man who craved attention but crumbled under too much. The man who, for some reason, had taken an intrigue in Iwaizumi when he first set eyes on him.

"I was hoping you wouldn't want to talk about Tokyo because then I'd have to talk about how I feel," he ran a hand down his face in exasperation. "And I don't usually like to do that. It's how I've always been. I give support but I can't take it from anyone; Kuroo says I'm stubborn."

"You're not stubborn," Oikawa shuffled forward so that their knees were touching, so that he could reach up with his hand and rub Iwaizumi's shoulder. Hajime tensed under Oikawa's touch for a second, before sighing and allowing his muscles to relax, head dropping to rest on his shoulder. "You're just cautious, and that's fine, but you can't keep it all bottled up in that thick skull of yours, Iwa-chan. If you want me to understand then you're going to have to talk; I may be amazing, but I can't read minds."

Iwaizumi snorted, "I think 'amazing' is a pretty strong word."

"Hey!" Oikawa smacked Iwaizumi on the arm. "I'm being nice and compassionate here and you're just being rude."

"Your idea of being nice includes you inadvertently insulting me? And inflating your own ego? That's very different to my idea of nice, y'know."

"You're changing the subject, _Ha-ji-me!_ "

Iwaizumi heaved out another breath. His fingers started tapping on the back of the chair again, the steady drumming an uninflected rhythm in the otherwise silent room. Oikawa lifted his hand and placed it on top of Iwaizumi's, both in an attempt to stop the nervous beat and to offer him some form of physical support. He ran his thumb over the back of Hajime's hand, a habit he'd picked up from all of the times Iwaizumi had done the same to him.

"Of course I'll miss you, dumbass." The words were without any poison or malice, just a simple statement of a fact, an assurance that Oikawa's feelings were reciprocated, that he wasn't alone in this like he usually was. Nor was Iwaizumi. "Everyone's gonna miss you. You're one of those people who makes sure their presence will never be forgotten. Pretty damn annoying if you ask me."

"I do like to leave a mark wherever I go." 

"Well you have," Iwaizumi assured him, grinning lopsidedly. "I mean there is literally still an Oikawa shaped dent in the grass in Mischief's field."

Oikawa snorted. He remembered running hand in hand with Iwaizumi, barely escaping with his life as he was chased down by a cow who seemed to have an ongoing battle against him and his love life. That was certainly an event he never thought he'd experience. He can't say it was one he'd ever live to regret, though. Certainly not.

"You know, Iwa-chan, relationships work both ways. You look after me and under influence from societal conventions and my own pure morals, I look after you."

"You? Pure morals? As if."

"Rude, Iwa-chan!" Oikawa brought a hand to his forehead and pretended to faint from shock. "Will you call me every night?"

"As long as you're not busy."

"Mm," Oikawa looked up through his lashes slyly. "Yeah, I might be out partying every night."

Iwaizumi scoffed, "As if!"

"You shouldn't be jealous of my reckless lifestyle, Iwa-chan."

"I'm not. I know you'd rather stay inside and watch crappy action movies anyway."

Oikawa chuckled. It was true. He'd rather be curled up inside in the warmth, watching a movie that was so bad that it was actually good, terrible acting and all. He'd rather be blinded by the steam of hot chocolate fogging his glasses than by the painful gleam of flashing strobe lights. He'd rather sit snugly in his pyjamas than prance about in a club in an uncomfortable outfit whilst getting all sweaty.

"Will you visit me?"

Iwaizumi smiled softly. Oikawa took this as an invitation to shuffle forward, a smile playing on the soft pinkness of his lips as Iwaizumi tucked some hair behind his ear, fingers lingering against his skin for a second. Soft fingers trailed the scattering of a freckled cosmos across his cheeks, followed them to the juncture where his jaw and neck met, before lingering down to the soft universe of curls at the nape of his neck. Oikawa let out something akin to a gasp as Iwaizumi tugged him forward lightly, their faces barely centimetres apart.

"Will you visit me?" Iwaizumi whispered, breath caressing his face in the absence of lover's hands against his cheeks.

Oikawa's reply was simple enough. A kiss. A kiss that was special, but nothing too extravagant. A kiss that was soft yet firm, quiet yet full of words, slow yet eager. It was a kiss where eyes fluttered shut and lashes tickled cheeks, where lips caressed one another like the innocence of a lover's embrace, where breath was stolen but not lost, where hands held but didn't push or pull. It was desire, want and need all balled into one. It was a promise.

Hajime made a noise in the back of his throat and pulled away for a second. Oikawa panicked, worrying that he had jumped in too soon, only to find that Iwaizumi simply removed his glasses before leaning back up to place his lips on Oikawa's. His arms wrapped themselves securely around Oikawa's waist, tugging gently so that Oikawa was nestled in his lap. He held Oikawa as though he were precious, an object to be treasured and protected. The smooth motion of hands rubbing gently along Tooru's spine sent a shiver coursing down his body as he tilted his head to lean further into the kiss, pressing his lips more firmly against Hajime's.

Hajime sighed against Tooru's lips and allowed one of his hands to slip slowly up into the curls of Oikawa's hair. Oikawa let out a soft noise at this, hands running the length of broad shoulders before settling on caressing the other's face, running his thumbs back and forth across his stubbly jaw.

Iwaizumi was the first to pull away, whispering into the sweet closeness between their lips, fingers running over the softness of Oikawa's closed eyelids and over the plumpness of kissed lips. He still held Oikawa in his arms as he murmured into his ear, words that took Oikawa a little too long to process, still dazed from the tenderness of their kiss.

"Sora is staying with Daichi and Suga for the night," he had whispered into the quietness between them, placing an equally quiet kiss on the base of Oikawa's jaw.

Oikawa cracked an eye open, "Smooth, Iwa-chan."

"I don't hear you complaining."

Oikawa grinned and surged forward again. Their lips met again. And again. And again.

\-----

Waking up next to Iwaizumi was a strange sensation, but certainly not one he could say he disliked. It was odd, for him, to wake up after a night and still find his partner next to him. Usually they'd rushed out early without leaving so much as a trace. But this change, this new presence and permanence in his life, it was more than welcome.

Oikawa reached out with the arm that wasn't trapped beneath Iwaizumi and carefully brushed loose hair from his forehead. His fingers halted for a second as Iwaizumi's face twitched beneath his touch, but the following grunt and heavy sigh confirmed that Hajime was well and truly asleep. Oikawa retained his relieved exhale and continued tracing the relaxed face, running fingers over lips that had become pleasantly familiar and down to the broad plain of his shoulders and chest.

Iwaizumi was truly a sight. The lazy morning glow barely managed to drag itself through the net curtains, a generous blanket of gold draping itself across Iwaizumi's wide back. With his face relaxed, his breath came steady from barely parted lips and his lashes caressed the sharp curve of his cheekbones. His arm was draped over Oikawa's waist, the other tucked awkwardly beneath the pillow.

Oikawa shuffled upwards in bed, reaching over Iwaizumi to grab his phone from the bedside table. He rubbed his eyes as he unlocked his phone and read the time. 8:43. His train left at 10:30.

Sighing, he placed his phone back on the side before shuffling back down and into Iwaizumi's embrace. He ran his hand through spiky hair, bringing his lips forward to press a kiss to Hajime's jawline. He stirred and grunted under the contact, but didn't wake. Oikawa snickered. He pressed another kiss, to Iwaizumi's nose this time. He got the same reaction. Oikawa pouted. He had expected Iwaizumi to have woken up by this point. A kiss to the lips. This time he was pushed away by sleepy arms.

Oikawa pushed back.

There was a dull thud as Iwaizumi hit the floor and a grunt that was much less sleepy and much more startled. Iwaizumi's head appeared by the side of the bed as he pushed himself up from the floor, a glare directed at Oikawa. Oikawa grinned and shrugged, as though the action couldn't have been helped.

"You weren't waking up at my romantic endeavours."

Iwaizumi mumbled something incoherent, although Oikawa took it to be a string of curses. He crawled over to the edge of the bed and looked down at Iwaizumi, who still had half of the bedcover still wrapped around him. He was blinking in an attempt to erase the sleep from his eyes, bleary vision still present as he looked up at Oikawa.

"Wha-" he was interrupted by a large yawn. "What time is it?" His speech was slurred from sleep, something that Oikawa felt was extremely endearing.

"Quarter to nine."

Iwaizumi grunted once more. It took some coaxing from Oikawa, but he eventually managed to encourage Iwaizumi to move from his spot on the floor and start the day properly.

The next day passed by in a flurry of sensations. He wasn't really seeing, just feeling. The smell of the rich coffee Iwaizumi brewed for him after he'd finished showering. The press of plastic against his palms as he dragged his suitcases out behind him. The slap of skin as he high-fived Kuroo and Bokuto at the train station. The press of a warm cheek against his own as he hugged Suga goodbye. The pressure of strong arms around his waist as he bid Hajime farewell, promising to text on his safe arrival. His eyes stinging as he blinked back tears, waving to everyone on the platform as the train pulled away.

He watched them all on the platform. Daichi had an arm wrapped around Sugawara's waist, waving at Oikawa with a gentle smile on his face. Then there was Suga, blowing kisses at the train, smiling wildly as the train's movement whipped ashen hair around his slender face. Hinata was jumping and waving frantically whilst Kageyama held the back of his shirt, ensuring that he didn't jump in somebody's way or somehow end up hurting himself. Noya and Asahi were in a similar position, Noya jumping in unison with Hinata.

Bokuto and Kuroo had constructed a 'Karakomasai Crew' banner, which they'd made with copious amounts of glue and glitter. The banner read, 'Break a leg, not an arm!'. Apparently Akaashi has tried to stop them, to no avail. Akaashi and Kenma were waving quietly from the back, and if Oikawa wasn't very much mistaken, then Akaashi also treated him to an encouraging little wink.

The image that stuck out to him, though, was Iwaizumi, standing off to the side ever so slightly, waving slowly with a weak smile on his face. Oikawa swallowed the thick lump in his throat. He told Iwaizumi he would never leave him behind, told him he'd always be there. Well now, here he was, pulling away from Iwaizumi with increasing speed, tears stinging the back of his eyes and a sob threatening to tear its way from his throat.

But he didn't let it. Because Iwaizumi hadn't cried, so he should bite it back. He did.

Then there was the cold press of glass against his cheek as he slept on the train to Tokyo. The crispness of his new Karakomasai jacket hanging around his arms. The mixture of elation and apprehension in his stomach as he stepped out into Tokyo for the first time.  

Billboards, flashing screens and neon lights dominated the skyline, a beautiful agglomeration of style and beauty. Pictures of models. With clothes, with food, with make-up. They were there. They had made it, all staring down at Oikawa from where they were displayed above him, like a shrine upon the horizon.

Tokyo was bustling with people, on a scale much larger than Miyagi, something he supposed he'd have to get used to. It was louder, busier and bigger. He loved it already. It wasn't like the rolling fields of farms he had for some reason grown accustomed to. The rolling green was replaced with beautiful architecture stretching up high, and the flecks of bright colours now came from the twinkling lights of shop windows instead of vast spreads of crops

It was breathtaking.

He pulled his phone out and tapped a hurried message, before rushing off to meet up with Matsukawa and Hanamaki, where his modelling would begin.

_Iwa-chan~!! I made it ^_^_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Okay. I am sorry. Again. I thought I'd finished with my schoolwork but then I get another load thrown at me all of a sudden :c I have finally finished all of that lot, and I can't promise that I won't receive another load sometime soon (especially with university coming up!!) but I will try my best to keep on top of updates!
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who reads this, leaves kudos and comments. You all put such a massive smile on my face and I love you all <3 also thanks to all of my friends who put up with me rambling about IwaOi for hours on end c;
> 
> Also, the dance au is definitely happening, so get ready for Suga with a braid, Oikawa with a ponytail and Akaashi with 100000 cute hair grips.
> 
> Talk to me on Tumblr! www.bealikestowrite.tumblr.com


	11. Marshmallows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanamaki needs to get a job. Bokuto and Akaashi are relationship goals. Iwaizumi and Oikawa are so sappy.

Chapter 11

"You've gone up in the world, Mattsun!" Oikawa hummed, pressing his nose up against the cold glass of the window. He wiped away the condensation his breath had left and blinked in awe at the stretch of city life ahead of him.

"Both literally and metaphorically," Hanamaki commented.

It was true. Along with Oikawa's new burst of success with his modelling career, Matsukawa's own managing career had found itself in a newly enhanced state. Moving to Tokyo with Oikawa had only seemed like a natural step in his career's gradual progression; he certainly hadn't expected to find himself presented with a chic new office with the most breathtaking view of Tokyo's bustling life. Hanamaki had been pretty pleased too; the new office had an even nicer couch to relax on than their old office had. Now he could relax in style.

"Yep, we're on top of the world now, huh?" Matsukawa commented smugly, resting his hands behind his head on his posh leather desk chair.

Hanamaki snorted, "Hey, don't get too cocky! This ain't the penthouse you promised you'd get me."

"Oi." Matsukawa shot him a glare. "If you want a penthouse, why not try doing some work yourself for once?"

"I do plenty of work!"

Oikawa peeled himself away from the window. He was still somewhat tired from the train journey, but the sheer adrenaline of excitement was enough to fight this tiredness away, replacing it with a jittering apprehension that left him wanting more, more of this marvellous adventure that the great streets of Tokyo offered him. He wandered over to the large oak desk, perching himself on the edge of it. Hanamaki shuffled on the couch, bringing his chin to rest on the arm of the chair so he could grin at Oikawa. Hanamaki's hair was messy from having been rolling around on the chair all morning like a cat preening itself in the sun.

The room was rather impressive, Oikawa had to admit. The walls were painted a simple white and were decorated with the climbing leaves of potted plants scattered around the room. Oikawa hoped Hanamaki and Matsukawa were not being left responsible for watering them. The carpet was plush and felt new under his feet, pale grey with specks of white, a black mat sitting in the centre of the room like a centrepiece. On top of this mat was a glass coffee table, which was already piled high with empty mugs and plates from Hanamaki 'testing the new cafeteria'. Oikawa wasn't quite sure why he had needed to try seven plates of profiteroles before he'd decided that the cafeteria was up to scratch. Then there was the startlingly red chair Hanamaki was sprawled out across and the oak desk Matsukawa was seated at, both at opposite ends of the room.

"You do plenty of work? Y'know, Makki-chan, I don't even know what your job _is_."

"Manager, vice-manager, obligatory cheerleader, handsome sidekick, professional profiterole taster," Makki counted each one with a long extension of a finger, "I am a man of many talents, Tooru, please don't try to limit me to one measly name."

Oikawa raised a brow sceptically, "So, do you have a job, or-?"

"Not contractually, no, but I think it's what's in the heart that counts. I can call myself your vice-manager, but it just wouldn't feel right in my _heart_. I remain contractually independent because I want to do everything I can for you, and in limiting myself to one profession, I feel I wouldn't be able to help you as successfully as I have so-"

"That's beautiful, Takahiro, it really is. Since you're contractually independent, you must have a lot of free time on your hands, so could you be a dear and grab me some coffee?" Matsukawa called from behind a stack of paper he was scanning.

Hanamaki heaved a long sigh. There was a dull thud as he rolled himself off of the couch, landing in a heap on the cushioned carpet. He clearly decided that, he too, was a fan of the wonderful flooring, and laid there for a little while. Oikawa stepped over him and laid himself out across the couch. Hanamaki had warmed it up and he found himself sinking into it, the tiredness of his muscles slowly creeping up on him. Oikawa rested his feet on Hanamaki. The latter didn't so much as budge.

There was a rustle of paper as Matsukawa placed the pile down onto the desk, sighing as he spotted Hanamaki on the floor. He rubbed his eyes. He was clearly tired too, dark brows furrowing and lips curling. His dark hair was messier than usual, and that was saying something. Oikawa felt bad for him; it couldn't have been easy, being the full time manager of Oikawa Tooru. As beautiful as he was, he was somewhat of a handful when he wanted to be. So was Hanamaki, though, so Oikawa supposed that Matsukawa had a generous amount of practice.

"Takahiro, you could always add professional coffee collector to your list of contractually independent professions."

Hanamaki glanced up from the carpet, "You're really not selling it to me."

"I'll give you some money to buy yourself another serving of profiteroles."

Oikawa didn't think he'd ever seen Hanamaki move as fast as he did in that moment. He was standing up in less than a second, hands on his hips. He strutted over to the desk and grabbed Matsukawa's wallet from his hand.

"Alright snookums, I'll get you your coffee," Hanamaki sang, tapping his finger against Matsukawa's nose in a daring move. Oikawa was surprised he didn't lose his finger. "And Oikawa, I suppose you want something, right? Your ridiculously sweet hot chocolate with the cream and marshmallows?"

"Mhm," Oikawa nodded. "Oh, and Makki? _Don't forget the sprinkles this time._ "

"What do you take me for, some bog-standard guy who doesn't know how to do his own job? I'm a professional coffee collector now, I'll have you know, I don't forget things like sprinkles."

Oikawa quirked a brow and hummed in acknowledgement. Hanamaki pocketed Matukawa's tatty old wallet. He nodded solemnly at the pair before stalking out of the room, pulling the glass door shut behind him. Honestly, a glass door in the presence of Hanamaki Takahiro; he couldn't see it lasting long. Matsukawa picked his papers back up, dark eyes skimming over them quickly behind narrow frames. His glasses only exaggerated the dark circles beneath his eyes, his lips pursed tightly as he scanned the documents.

Oikawa pried himself up from the couch and sauntered over to Matsukawa's desk. He perched himself on the edge of it, tilting his head just so in an attempt to catch a glimpse of what his manager was reading. Nothing too interesting, by the looks of things, just a collection of dates and business names, a few locations and words scribbled in red pen.

"You should get some rest, Mattsun, you look exhausted." Oikawa allowed his head to loll back on his neck. He stared up at the ceiling, the stark whiteness of it a complete contrast to the open blue sky he had grown accustomed to seeing. It was almost odd, not being outside everyday.

"I'll get some rest later," he sighed. "I need to do this first."

"Hm?"

Matsukawa pushed his glasses further up the ridge of his nose, "There's a catwalk later this week, figured you could walk it and try to catch the attention of some brands. There wasn't much of this sort of thing in Miyagi, we were just sort of relying on the odd chance that someone would see some of your past stuff and maybe offer you a job. Honestly we struck gold when Akaashi put a good word in for you; it opened up a lot of doors. But now _we_ can take control, see? We'll put you in a couple of catwalks and see where we go from there."

"You're pretty optimistic."

"Hey, I'm sitting in a leather chair in an almost-but-not-quite penthouse office. I think I'm allowed to be somewhat optimistic."

Oikawa picked at a loose thread on his shirt and scuffed his toes on the carpet. He hadn't really considered being picked up by a brand, hadn't ever thought himself good enough. He'd accepted his fate as an average model, picking up the odd jobs here and there, scraping enough money to pay his rent. He'd given up looking for brand contracts pretty quickly after the first few had been snatched away from him. But if he was spotted by a brand, well, he couldn't even begin to imagine how excited he'd feel.

_Relieved._

But he was nervous, too. What if he walked and nobody liked him? Would he be stuck grabbing small jobs around Tokyo? Would his huge move to Tokyo be rendered inconsequential? The embarrassment he'd feel returning to Miyagi as a failure would be devastating. He clenched his hands into fists, nails digging into the soft skin of his palms. He felt the urge to run, his stomach knotting in fear, a cool sweat building on his skin as he thought of the possibility of failure. He could go back to Miyagi, and that way he wouldn't have failed, because he wouldn't have tried.

But he wouldn't do that.

He could, but he wouldn't. Because he may not have faced disappointment in the fashion industry, but he would be facing disappointment from Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi wouldn't be disappointed in him, he never could, but he'd be disappointed that Oikawa hadn't tried. He'd be upset that Oikawa gave away his dreams because he was afraid, he'd be distraught that Oikawa couldn't quite reach where he wanted to go. He'd be disappointed _for_ Oikawa.

And so Oikawa unclenched his fists, wiggling his fingers out in front of him. He stood up straight and brushed down the front of his shirt, straightening it where it had rucked up around his hips slightly.

"What sort of brands are gonna be there?" Oikawa wandered back over to the window, glancing out over the bright lights and rushing people.

"Loads," Matsukawa answered. "Some smaller ones and some huge ones, you know, your typical designer brands."

"I'd look good in designer."

Matsukawa chuckled, "Don't rely on designer brands to pick you up. I'm not saying it won't happen, but you've got to consider the smaller brands too. I mean if a smaller brand offers you a more centric position, then it might be more beneficial to do that. You'd get less media coverage, but being a key model in a brand would look really good on your portfolio. It'd be good for future jobs."

"'Spose I've gotta start somewhere."

A part of him was bitter. He had started somewhere- _Miyagi_. He'd started in Miyagi, years back, and he still hadn't made it. Sure, he was in Tokyo now, but even that didn't mean he'd make it big. In reality, the likelihood was that he'd end up modelling for smaller brands. That wasn't a bad thing, by all means, but Oikawa dreamed big, always had. He'd had visions of himself strutting the catwalk in the most prestigious of designer brands, had dreams of receiving free clothes and generous amounts of money.

He stared out of the window. He looked at the expanse of Tokyo stretched out before him. It was big. Really big. So many buildings, so many cars, so many _people_. It was truly gorgeous, with exquisite shops and flashy adverts. Oikawa loved how busy it was. He loved watching people rush by, all living their own lives, all with their own dreams and worries.

There were so many people with so many different dreams. _Not everyone gets their dream_. Not everyone would get their dream, but that didn't mean that they weren't happy. Dreams were merely a figment of one's imagination, a morsel of hopefulness balled into excited imagination. Achieving the dream would be extraordinary, but was not definitive of happiness. Oikawa dreamed of modelling designer labels, but he was happy just modelling. It didn't pay as much, sure, but he was happy.

And that was all that mattered, right?

"I'm a model, right?" Oikawa called from the window. "I can make anything look good."

"Obviously. I wouldn't spend so much time on you otherwise."

Oikawa smirked, turning around to lean his back against the window. "Oh? And I thought you spent so much time on me because of my endearing personality!" He raised a hand to his heart.

Matsukawa scoffed, "Sorry, no. There is literally nothing endearing about you."

"Well, it is difficult to be both devilishly handsome and endearing at the same time."

"I feel that!" Hanamaki called as he clattered his way into the room. There was a tray full of hot drinks in one of his hands and a generously sized plate of profiteroles in his other. It was a wonder he hadn't dropped something in the elevator. Oikawa winced as the glass door slammed shut behind him. "It's so difficult being so irresistibly attractive."

He threw the tray down on Matsukawa's desk with little grace. Matsukawa snapped at him; his new desk was to be taken care of. Hanamaki just snickered, dragging a chair closer to the desk so he could shovel his face full of profiteroles. Oikawa grabbed a chair too, keeping himself out of the range of Hanamaki's messy eating. Bits of profiterole were flying everywhere. Matsukawa flicked the crumbs off of his desk, laughing each time they hit Makki square in the head.

"Makki, please tell Mattsun that I am, in fact, hugely endearing."

Hanamaki glanced up from his profiteroles. He had food smeared around his lips, and his mouth was still half full. Oikawa didn't even want to know how many plates he'd already had that day. There was a lump of profiterole clinging to his cheek. Matsukawa was finding it hilarious.

"I don't see it personally," Makki turned back to his unfinished dessert. "But someone must find you at least somewhat endearing, right?"

"Mm," Matsukawa hummed, leaning across the desk to pinch a profiterole from the plate. "Iwa-chan finds you endearing, I presume."

Oikawa smiled slyly up at the pair, leaning around to grab a profiterole. Hanamaki was too focused on his own mouthful of dessert to care. He grinned around the profiterole as he bit into it, looking up at them through his long lashes. Matsukawa leant back in his chair, arms folded over his chest, eyebrows raised in expectant silence.

"Of course he does," Oikawa chirped. "Iwa-chan _likes me_."

Matsukawa rolled his eyes, "Blushing like that you look like a giddy teen with their first crush. It's sickening."

"And sitting back like that in your big leather chair you look like the antagonist of a spy movie, but I'm not judging you."

Hanamaki snorted. Profiterole flew from his mouth. Oikawa screeched and jumped out of his chair, narrowly avoiding flying chunks of food. Matsukawa was not so lucky, and neither was his new leather chair. He disdainfully wiped profiterole from his forehead, glaring at Hanamaki the whole while.

"Etiquette, Takahiro."

"Hey, just 'cause you look all professional now in your ironed suit and fancy chair, don't think you can start acting like a pompous tool. We've already got Tooru for that."

Matsukawa glanced over at Oikawa, who was still standing a safe distance away from the splash zone. Matsukawa nodded at Oikawa. He understood immediately, a smirk shaping his lips as he placed his hands on his hips, sauntering closer to Hanamaki.

"Etiquette, Takahiro," he mimicked, voice low in an attempt to capture the full Matsukawa impact.

Hanamaki snapped his head away from his food. He narrowed his eyes at Matsukawa and Oikawa in turn, eyebrows furrowing in an accusatory gesture. His intimidating factor was somewhat lessened by the food that was hanging from his hair. Matsukawa had probably flicked it there on purpose.

"You can't use your pompous model to tell me what to do!"

"On the contrary, my dear Makki," Matsukawa plucked yet another profiterole from the plate. "I think I can. After all, he is _my model_."

Hanamaki turned to Oikawa now. Oikawa smiled innocently and pushed his hair back from his face. It needed to be cut; it was getting irritating, the way it flopped over his glasses.

"As your vice-manager, I order you to tell my _darling Issei_ to stop being such a jerk!"

Oikawa brought a finger to his lips as if in thought. His foot was tapping against the floor in a rhythmic beat, the carpet soft beneath his feet. Hanamaki glowered at him. A grin lit up Oikawa's eyes as he tore his finger away from his mouth, using it to point directly at his vice-manager.

"Ah, you see I would, but unfortunately you're contractually independent, and so my loyalty lies entirely with my manager! Pity."

"I made you hot chocolate!" Hanamaki protested, a petulant pout curling his lips. Oikawa bit his tongue in an attempt to stop the laugh bubbling in his throat, the amused smirk tugging at his lips only encouraging Hanamaki's pout. 

Oikawa climbed back into his chair, bringing his knees up to his chest. He rested his chin on his knees and grinned at Hanamaki, who only pouted back. Oikawa chuckled. He leant over the desk to grab the mug that Hanamaki had filled for him. It was warm in his hands, steam rising from the cup and curling toward the ceiling. He blew gently and watched as the tendrils of heat broke apart, the once perfect clusters of swirling heat separating. Although the swirls of steam broke apart from one another, they still found each other in the end, collecting together in a less organised yet still beautiful cloud of steam, licking the ceiling before disappearing completely.

Oikawa lifted the brim of the cup to his lips. He sniffed the drink, sighing blissfully as the delicious scent of chocolate brushed his face. The liquid was warm in his throat, trickling down to his stomach and warming him from the inside. He frowned.

"See, didn't forget the sprinkles, did I?" Hanamaki grinned lopsidedly.

Oikawa cocked his head, "No."

Hanamaki turned to smirk at Matsukawa. He looked awfully proud of himself. He brought his thumbs to point at his chest, smiling triumphantly.

"You doubted me! And now look, I'm not only a professional coffee collector, but also a professional hot chocolate collector!" He rested his elbows on the desk, propping his chin in the palms of his hands. He fluttered his lashes at Matsukawa. "You ought to be worried, Issei, my list of various professions may one day surpass your own talents. I am, after all, a man of multiple talents, I am a professional-"

"You forgot the marshmallows, Makki-chan," Oikawa interrupted disdainfully.

Matsukawa snorted. Hanamaki slammed his hands on the desk in a melodramatic manner, the now empty plate rattling in front of him. He stood abruptly, pushing the chair back, the legs dragging against the fluffy carpet. Oikawa hid his laughter behind his hand. Matsukawa wasn't quite so discreet, guffawing and wiping his eyes at the scene unfolding in front of him. Hanamaki scooped the plate up. He sniffed haughtily, sending a final glance between the pair before stalking toward the door, head held high.

He reached the door and placed his free hand upon the handle. It was comically dramatic, like an action movie protagonist saying their final farewells, or a hero about to embark on a seemingly impossible mission. Both Oikawa and Matsukawa knew that Hanamaki was only off to buy some more profiteroles.

"Before I go," Hanamaki said without looking at them. "I want you both to know one thing." He turned now, light hair casting a shadow upon his eyes. He stared unblinkingly at the pair, whose laughs had now died down to the occasional chortle, both staring back at him expectantly. Hanamaki dragged his finger along the plate, licking a huge dollop of cream from his finger. He took a deep breath and placed his hand on his heart. "You're both jerks. I'll leave you both alone so you can talk about _etiquette_."

And with that, he left. The glass door slammed shut behind him.

"He's gonna break that door," Oikawa remarked.

Matsukawa huffed out a laugh. He ran a hand back through his dark hair, curls tangling around his fingers as he did so. Matsukawa wasn't new to Hanamaki's behaviour, and Hanamaki certainly wasn't new to any of Matsukawa's behaviours. Oikawa wasn't too sure on exactly how long they'd know each other, but he did know it had been years. They spent almost all of their time together and, from what Oikawa could tell, they were almost completely inseparable. Oikawa smiled; they were comfortable together, happy and content.

Oikawa yelped as Matsukawa tapped him on the head with his pen.

"Oi, why are you smiling like that? It's creepy."

"Just thinking."

"Uh oh."

Oikawa shot him a look. Matsukawa just smiled around the edge of his pen, eyes pinching up at the corners.

"I was actually thinking about your beautiful relationship with Makki-chan."

Matsukawa frowned, thick eyebrows furrowing. Oikawa and Hanamaki had both offered to pluck them, and both offers had been promptly refused. Although, if Oikawa was being honest, they did suit him somewhat. Hanamaki had said he liked them too. And so they remained.

"Why? Are you looking for relationship advice?" Mattsun waggled his eyebrows, sly grin plastering his face.

Oikawa scoffed, "No! As if I could trust either of you two with that sort of thing. I was just thinking about how happy you two are, y'know."

"I guess we are, but," Matsukawa looked pointedly at Oikawa, "it took a lot of work."

"Mattsun, if you're going to try and indirectly target me, you're meant to make it less obvious."

"Go home, Oikawa, come back here early tomorrow morning. Go call your gorgeous boyfriend or something. Relationships take work; especially long distance ones. So put the work in. If you want it as badly as I know you do, then you'll have no problems."

Tooru nodded gratefully. Not only was he desperate to let Iwaizumi know how he was doing, he was also exhausted. He needed to call his parents, too, and maybe a quick call to his sister and her family. There were a lot of people he needed to keep in touch with. Akaashi wanted to be kept up to date, too, as well as Suga and Yachi. Of course, Kuroo and Bokuto had created a group chat for just themselves and Oikawa, aptly named _#hairgoals_. Oikawa hadn't agreed with that name.

He pushed himself out of his chair, stretching his long legs out after having been sat down for a while. He was almost reluctant to go; Matsukawa's office was comfortable, warm, and welcoming. His new place wasn't quite so welcoming, what with the mountains of cardboard boxes stashed around the place. He stil had to empty and organise them.

"Mattsun?" Oikawa called.

Matsukawa blinked at him, "Mm?"

An almost blinding grin split Oikawa's face, lighting his eyes with a pride that one only possessed when one's life goals were within reach. And they were, they were so close, he could literally brush them with the tips of his fingers, could practically feel them in the palm of his hands.

"We finally made it."

-*-*-*-

He arrived at his apartment complex early in the evening. The starry sky wasn't as clear in Tokyo as it was in Miyagi, the bright lights of the city dimming the natural twinkle of stars above him. They were still there, though, as despite being dimmed somewhat, they shone regardless, light breaking through the inky sky to look down on Oikawa. He rattled his new key in the door. The wooden door fell open easily, allowing him entrance to his new place.

It was nice, nicer than his old place in Miyagi. It wasn't quite home yet, but he had no doubts that he would soon be able to make it fit for a king, comfortable and welcoming. He kicked his shoes off in the entryway and slung his coat on the hanger. The hallway was jammed full with his cardboard boxes and stacked high with all of his belongings. He'd unpack them later; he had much more important things to do now.

He headed down the hall to the room at the end. Pushing it open, he was met with the sight of his new bedroom. It was the only room he'd had time to somewhat decorate so far. The walls were painted a delicate cream colour, upon which he'd already started hanging his posters. There was a desk off to the left of the room where he'd laid out his laptop and work for his portfolio, as well as a stack of comics and magazines he had yet to stack in his bookcase. The corkboard above the desk was already filled with pictures of his family, pictures of him with Matsukawa and Hanamaki, and pictures of him and the Karakomasai workers. Oikawa loved collecting photos to decorate his place; they made him feel more at home.

His clothes were already hanging in his cupboard, and all of his products and accessories strewn across his vanity. A large bed was laid out to the right side of the room. He'd put his favourite bedspread on it in an attempt to help him sleep, since he hadn't had time to out his stickers up yet. But, his favourite part of the apartment sat off to the last wall of his bedroom; a wide glass door, draped with flowing netted curtains, leading out to a generously sized balcony.

He hurriedly swapped his clothes for his comfiest pyjamas, pulling a baggy hoodie on over the top. Then he tucked his laptop under his arm and wandered out onto the balcony, seating himself snuggly on the wicker chair which looked out over the streets around him, and placed his laptop on a tiny wicker table.

It didn't take him long to open his laptop and find Iwaizumi's contact profile. His finger hesitated above the call button, a sudden reluctance seeming to seize his muscles, stopping him from doing what he so desperately desired to do. He wanted to call Hajime, wanted to see his face and hear his voice, wanted to ask him how his day had been, how everything was going back at Karakomasai. But there was a sudden fear, a sudden apprehension that he couldn't quite fathom; what if Iwaizumi was too busy for him? He did have a life back in Miyagi, after all.

His muscles relaxed. He hit the call button. His heart seemed to leave his chest as he watched his laptop screen, anxiety sending his fingers tingling and his leg bobbing. He wanted to see his face now, if only for a few seconds, just wanted to hear his name roll off of Iwaizumi's tongue, because that was as good as a kiss at this point. He wanted to-

Nothing.

Iwaizumi didn't pick up the call. Oikawa blinked. His throat felt dry. He was definitely overreacting, but he couldn't help it. All he wanted was to talk. The stress of moving, the pressure to find a job, _everything_ , was becoming too much. He felt sick, he felt-

His laptop chimed out a little song, notifying him of an incoming call. He blinked back the tears building up in his eyes. Akaashi. It wasn't Iwaizumi, but it was Akaashi, and Oikawa felt both disappointed and relieved at the same time. Disappointed that it wasn't Iwaizumi, but relieved that perhaps Akaashi would understand what he was going through.

"Aka-chan!" Oikawa chirped as he answered the call.

Akaashi smiled at him. He was in very much the same attire as Oikawa, with his baggy hoodie and mussed hair. He still looked handsome with his angular face and swooping lashes, thin lips that were quirked around a smile, and dark curls that licked his thin brows. Oikawa could hear Bokuto humming somewhere in the background.

"Oikawa-san," Akaashi replied. "How's Tokyo?"

"Oh god, it's amazing. I've never seen so many people in one place. But this is where it starts for me, this is where my modelling _really_ begins! I'm gonna be so successful, just you wait Aka-chan."

Akaashi chuckled, "You seem a lot more confident than before you left."

"Well I am Oikawa Tooru, confidence is my middle name."

"It's good to be feeling confident, you know. Even if you don't feel confident at a shoot or on a catwalk, just smile and pretend. Although you probably already know that."

"Yeah," Oikawa huffed. "Mattsun's been over it at least a million times today. Honestly, I think he's more stressed out than I am."

"Well he is responsible for you."

Oikawa snorted, "That's probably a task in itself."

He heard Akaashi chuckle. He looked away from the screen for a moment, gazing over the brim of the glass that lined the balcony. His balcony looked out over the city of Tokyo. It was located in a quieter area, not so many busy roads and shops, but still enough people bustling about to remind him that he wasn't in Miyagi anymore. The occasional car chugged by, shiny exteriors reflecting the bright streetlights, mere silhouettes of people visible within the vehicles, all going about their own busy lives in Tokyo. Some played music loud, a dissonant sound that bounced off of the tall buildings surrounding him. People babbled and chattered as they walked along the street beneath his balcony, a group of boys laughing at one another, a group of girls tripping over each other as they took photos of themselves and their surroundings, a couple carrying their shopping home. It made the area seem lively, made it seem much more comfortable and welcoming.

He smiled; maybe one day he could be one of those people, fitting in with the life in Tokyo as if it was second nature. He'd get used to the busy roads and loud shops, and he'd walk around confidently, knowing the area like the back of his hand.

He looked up to the sky next. It was dark. That was a slight disappointment, the beautiful lights within the city stealing the brightness of the lights in the sky. But, Oikawa found, if you looked hard enough, you could spot one. The bright city lights hadn't quite reached it yet, and it shone brightly. Then, as if by magic, he spotted another star, twinkling right next to the first, as if giving it the strength to keep on shining. And then there was a group. They all shone together, twinkling in unison with the stunning city lights. Tokyo truly was a beautiful place. Oikawa decided he could use some more greenery on the balcony, though.

A sudden crash on the other side of the call brought him back to reality. He blinked at Akaashi, who didn't so much as bat an eyelid. Instead a look of sheer acceptance shaped his face. Oikawa grimaced.

"Bokuto's home then?"

Akaashi nodded, "He insisted on cooking tonight."

"Any particular reason?"

Akaashi looked helplessly at Oikawa. The smile on his face said he found the whole thing a sweet gesture from his boyfriend, but his eyes read _'help me, we're going to need a new kitchen'_. Oikawa almost felt bad for the guy.

"Kuroo-san questioned Koutarou's cooking abilities. Unfortunately, this led to them making a bet. Koutarou is now attempting to cook a professional meal, with all these odd ingredients I've never heard of before."

"And how's it going?"

"Unfortunately, Kuroo-san was right to question Bokuto's cooking abilities. He's awful. It's weakness number thirty eight."

Oikawa cocked his head, "Thirty eight? What's number thirty seven?"

"It's better left unsaid."

There was another crash. This time Akaashi did flinch, turning his head to look at the door to the kitchen behind him. Oikawa couldn't quite see what he was looking at, sounds of Bokuto swearing in the background suggested that it probably wasn't pleasant. He imagined there was a smashed plate or two. There was a murmured conversation between the pair, after which Akaashi excused himself from Oikawa's presence, promising to be back quickly.

Oikawa sat back in his chair as he watched Akaashi disappear from view. He could hear the pair talking in the distance, Bokuto sounding very disappointed in his cooking skills and Akaashi simply humouring him.

It was starting to get colder. Oikawa pulled his hoodie tighter around himself, shielding himself from the cold wind that was starting to crop up around him. He wondered if he should go inside. But something was willing him to stay outside, the bask in the sheer calmness he felt at just being outside. He wasn't restricted by four walls around him, and the sky wasn't hidden behind a white ceiling. He had it all around him, had freedom and the gentle caress of wind on his skin.

"Oikawa!"

Tooru jumped. The wicker chair creaked beneath him, threatening to collapse if he moved much more violently. He breathed out slowly as he brought his eyes to the screen, seeing a pair of familiar golden eyes blinking at him. Bokuto was far too close to the screen. Oikawa could only see his eyes and nose, and the only way Oikawa could tell he was grinning was by the way his eyes narrowed ever so slightly and creased at the corners.

"Bokuto, you really don't need to be that close to the screen," Oikawa sighed, waving his hand in a shooing motion.

"I know, I'm just looking at you."

"Well I can't say I blame you. But why?"

Bokuto sat back in his chair, waving his hand nonchalantly, bracelet glinting in the light. He flashed his teeth at Oikawa. "No reason!"

Oikawa glowered at Bokuto, "You can't say something like that and then refuse to elaborate. Do I have something on my face? Did Makki get profiterole on my cheek?"

Bokuto just winked at him. He tucked some loose hairs behind his ears, hair flat and dampened from a recent shower. It was odd to see him without his questionable spikes, instead with lighter and darker hair falling into his golden eyes. It made him look older, more mature, almost unrecognisable as the droop of hair softened the usual angularity of his face. There was sauce staining the front of his shirt, presumably the result of the earlier crashing sounds.

"There is something on your face. Zumi told me."

Oikawa made a face. He scrunched up his nose, which only made Bokuto laugh.

"What did he tell you?"

"Why don't you call him and ask him yourself?"

"I called him and he didn't answer," Oikawa pursed his lips. "Do you think it's gonna be a problem? Us being this far apart? I don't want to hurt him, maybe I was wrong to-"

"Oikawa, dude, chill out! He didn't pick up because he was staying late at the farm tonight. He was helping with the silage. He's probably only just got home. And if he has then he's probably in the shower, because let me tell you, silage stinks pretty bad."

Oikawa's shoulders dropped in a sigh of relief. Iwaizumi wasn't ignoring him, he was just busy at the farm. Oikawa felt a bit ridiculous for panicking so easily. He rolled his eyes at himself. He was overreacting, and it was all because he was stressed out, all because- because he _cared_ for Iwaizumi. The feelings of desperation, the urge to talk to him all stemmed from this newly found fondness of the other man. He wasn't used to this raw emotion and, if anything, this stressed him out more.

But he liked it.

"It's a good thing, you know," Bokuto said suddenly. There was a knowing smile on his face, the usual childish humour that glimmered in his eyes dimmed by something much more wise. Oikawa was taken aback.

"What is? Don't start getting all mysterious on me, Kuto-chan."

"The fact that you're worrying. It means you care. Means you're in _deep_. And that's good 'cause it means you're willing to stick it out, and so is Zumi. He was worrying all day at work. He didn't say so, but he was pretty quiet. Only spoke to Suga for most of the day. He must've been pretty bad 'cause Suga gave him extra servings at lunch, and he only does that when someone really needs it."

"He was worried?"

"'Course. He wants to make sure you settle into life in Tokyo. Wants you to be happy and successful."

Oikawa laughed quietly to himself. The idea of Iwaizumi worrying about him set a warmth alight in his stomach. It was nice, just to know that there was someone there. That, even though they weren't close, they were still thinking of one another. He remembered something his mother once read to him gently, words slipping lovingly from her lips over the pages of a tattered old book, one that had once belonged to his sister:

_Even if we're apart... I'll always be with you._

Oikawa smiled fondly at the memory. He couldn't help but think his mother had intended for him to remember those words. As if she'd know that one day Oikawa would need to hear them, would need to remember them.

"You sound as if you know a lot about this, Bokuto," Oikawa remarked. "Could you be talking from experience?"

Bokuto nodded. "Y'know I said I met Akaashi in Tokyo? He stayed in Tokyo for his modelling, until he decided it was getting too busy for him. So I said he should move to Miyagi with me, pick up a few modelling jobs over here, live a quieter life."

"You two started long distance? And you're still together?"

"Oikawa."

The voice wasn't Bokuto's. Akaashi walked back into the room, wet flannel in his hand, dark eyes focused on Oikawa. He sat in the chair next to Bokuto, absently lifting the flannel to dab at the sauce staining his boyfriend's shirt.

Oikawa could practically sense the mutual admiration between them, the shared respect that fuelled the harmonious flow of their relationship. Their bracelets scintillated in unison. Bokuto's fingers brushed over the top of Akaashi's arm as if in wonderment, relishing in the fact that Akaashi was _his_ , and he Akaashi's. Akaashi rested his free hand on Bokuto's thigh. It was an easy gesture, one that took little thought, but one that spoke volumes about the deep bond of their relationship.

"Long distance doesn't make a relationship impossible. It makes it difficult, of course, but every relationship has its ups and downs. If you want this badly enough, put the work in. It's worth it, I promise you." A flicker of a smile danced along his lips. Bokuto leant in and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Oikawa swallowed down the lump in his throat. "I'm not going to let this go. I've got too much pride to let a little bit of distance stop me getting what I want."

"Good to hear," Akaashi said. "Now get some rest until Iwaizumi-san calls. You're going to be very busy in Tokyo."

-*-*-*-

His bed was comfortable. It was odd being in a new bed, but the mattress was incredibly comfortable, and simply having his own bedspread laid out made the room feel much more homely. He'd left the curtains to the balcony open, allowing the light to spill in through the glass and drop a glowing doorway onto the floor beside his bed. His laptop sat open behind him; he was still waiting for Iwaizumi to come online. He'd texted a few times, to no avail.

So he laid there, sleepily scrolling through the internet, eyelids growing heavier by the second. He'd just been drifting off to sleep when his laptop chimed, the little song sending his heart soaring. He flicked over to the call. The more pessimistic side of him thought it might be Akaashi again. Not that he didn't want to talk to Akaashi, it was just that there was one person who he _desperately_ wanted to talk to at that moment in time.

_Iwaizumi Hajime._

Oikawa quickly accepted the call. The screen flickered to life, bringing to him the picture of a very tired Iwaizumi laying across his bed, Sora cuddled up beside him. He petted her head absentmindedly. Oikawa's heart skipped a beat at the sight, Iwaizumi smiling at him gently through the screen, his dark hair damp from a shower, green eyes narrowing from exhaustion but also the smile that tugged at his lips.

"Iwa-chan," Oikawa breathed.

"Hey," Iwaizumi replied equally quietly. "How's Tokyo?"

"Ah! It's so nice! I got off the train and it was so busy, there are so many people everywhere all the time. It was pretty scary at first, but nice too, lively I guess you could call it. And the shops here are absolutely amazing, I'm gonna be able to get everyone the best Christmas presents this year. Oh, and Mattsun's new office is huge, and it's so posh, he looks like the manager of a huge company or something when he sits in his new leather chair. And my place is nice too, really modern! You'll have to visit sometime, my balcony has the best view and- oh, sorry, I'm rambling."

Iwaizumi chuckled. Sora opened her eyes at his sudden movement, blinking dazedly at Oikawa. Her tail wagged for a second before Iwaizumi went back to scratching her behind the ear, a trick that seemed to calm her down in seconds.

"No, I like hearing you talk about it. It makes me feel less worried, knowing that you like it there."

"Aw, Iwa-chan was worried about me?" Oikawa sang.

"Oi, don't push your luck. I can block you on this, you know."

"You wouldn't, though, you'd miss me too much."

"Keep telling yourself that."

Oikawa stuck his tongue out at him, to which Iwaizumi replied by rolling his eyes. They fell silent for a moment, the only sound the soft snuffles of Sora's snores, muffled by the fabric of Iwaizumi's shirt where she had buried her face.

"Sorry I couldn't pick up earlier. I was showering when you called, then I had to wash my clothes because they smelt so bad."

"Gross. I told you that you smell bad."

"Hey! I don't smell bad! It was the silage."

"Oh, _sure_ ," Oikawa teased. "I have no idea what silage is, but you can't blame your natural bad smell on other things."

"You're an ass."

Oikawa looked up through his lashes at Iwaizumi, biting on his bottom lip to stop the smirk that threatened to bend his lips. Iwaizumi simply stared back at him, eyes flickering to Oikawa's lips and back up to his eyes. Oikawa swallowed.

"Yet you're still putting yourself out to do this with me. This long distance thing."

"Somebody has to put up with you."

Oikawa looked petulant. He shifted onto his side, resting his head on his pillow and still looking down the camera at Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi waited for him to settle, watching fondly as Oikawa struggled to get his long arms into a comfortable position below his head. When he stopped moving, Oikawa blinked slowly at Iwaizumi, examining his face carefully.

He looked tired, dark circles beneath his eyes, dark hair messy around his head. His smile, although there, was weak and seemed somewhat forced. There were words on his lips. His lips were pulled tight, holding the words back, as though afraid of hurting or upsetting Oikawa. But Oikawa found himself wanting to hear them. He wanted to know everything about Iwaizumi, from his hopes and dreams to his doubts and worries.

Oikawa looked into those forest green eyes splintered with brown. Dark lashes hung from his eyelids, framing his eyes and making them more enticing. He reached out, placing his hand down on the keyboard, stopping himself from tracing his fingers along the screen, along Iwaizumi's cheek. Iwaizumi blinked, leaning forward as if seeking the touch.

"Bokuto said you told him I have something on my face," Oikawa said quietly, as though scared to break the tranquility of his room in the dark of night. "What does he mean?"

A blush suddenly flooded Iwaizumi's cheeks and the tips of his ears. Oikawa found it adorable, especially the way he looked away from the screen quickly and stuttered to find his words, waving his hand in the air as if in an attempt to snatch a coherent sentence from the space around him.

"Freckles," he finally said.

"What?"

"You have freckles on your nose. You have some on your back too, but I didn't tell him that."

"Why did you tell him about my freckles?" Oikawa smiled, amused.

Iwaizumi was getting more and more flustered by the second. He scratched the back of his neck and opened and closed his mouth wordlessly in an attempt to answer without further embarrassment.

"I-I just think they're cute, is that all right?" The answer was blunt, almost a challenge rather than a compliment of Oikawa's appearance. This haphazard admission of Iwaizumi's feelings was still enough to leave Oikawa a blushing, stuttering mess though, and the pair were both as red as each other. Sora looked up at the pair of them. She sighed heavily before getting up and walking off.

Iwaizumi laughed, taking this chance to change the subject to something less embarrassing. His voice was gruff with tiredness as he said, "Looks like someone's tired."

Oikawa snickered, "Guess so. You should get some sleep too, Iwa-chan, you look pretty tired."

"But I wanna talk to you," Iwaizumi replied stubbornly, despite the gradual drooping of his eyelids. "Just a little longer."

Oikawa liked tired Iwaizumi. He was more clingy, definitely more affectionate. Awake Iwaizumi was more reserved in his displays of affection, from what Oikawa had found so far, although that made his displays of affection all the more rewarding. Iwaizumi rested his head on his pillow, blinking quickly in an attempt to keep himself awake.

"Why do you like my freckles so much, Iwa-chan?"

Iwaizumi huffed, bringing his hand up to hide his burning cheeks. Oikawa laughed at him, a dizzy laugh he only had around Iwaizumi. Because, as cheesy as it was, Iwaizumi made him struggle to breathe without serious effort. The things Iwaizumi did to him were almost indescribable.

"They're cute, I told you!"

"Aw, is that it?"

Iwaizumi furrowed his brows. He knew Oikawa wasn't going to give in easily.

"They look cute on you. And I counted them when you were asleep. You have twenty on your face and twenty one on your back."

"Why did you count them?"

Iwaizumi shrugged, "I couldn't sleep."

"That's kind of romantic Iwa-chan. Who knew you were so in touch with your inner Romeo!"

"Romeo died," he pointed out matter-of-factly.

Oikawa sighed dramatically, bringing the back of his hand to rest on his forehead in mock horror. Iwaizumi just watched on tiredly. Oikawa sat up, looking down at Iwaizumi. He looked adorable, face smooshed against his pillow, quilt pulled to just below his chin. His voice was gravelly with sleep, his eyes drooping slowly. Oikawa felt the urge to press a kiss to his forehead. If he could, there was no doubt that he would.

"It was a figure of speech, Hajime. Hopefully this relationship won't end with your death. And I certainly hope we aren't star-crossed lovers. I was just surprised that somebody as grumpy as you are can be so sweet and romantic!"

"Don't be an ass."

"You're ruining the moment, Iwa-chan. I was trying to be nice."

Iwaizumi smiled into his pillow, "Oh, is that what that was?"

Oikawa smiled too. He felt the nerves crop up once more, eating away at the inside of his stomach and threatening to spill from his lips. He felt his hands grow warm and his heart rate increase rapidly. He loved feeling so close to Iwaizumi, but hated this constant uncertainty. Could they do this? He wanted them to, with all his heart he wanted them to get through this. He wanted to be successful both in his job and with Iwaizumi.

"Stop worrying, dumbass," Hajime said, voice muffled by his pillow ever so slightly. "We'll talk as much as we can. That won't be every day, but we'll do it, okay? And we can text even if we can't speak. So stop worrying. If you want this as much as I do, then we'll be fine."

And oh _god_ did he want this. He wanted Iwaizumi, wanted his comfort and kindness and warmth. He wanted the good times and the bad, wanted the kisses and the arguments, wanted the cuddles and apologies. He wanted everything he could have and more. He was Oikawa Tooru, and he was not about to let go of something he wanted. He wouldn't let something like that lie.

"I know," Oikawa replied, laying his head down on his pillow again. "I want this too."

The smile he received from Iwaizumi was heart stopping. It wasn't a simply grin or nonchalant smirk. It was a heartfelt smile, one filled with unadulterated adoration and care, one filled with trust and hope. His eyes, leaf green and deep brown, stared at him longingly. Oikawa briefly wondered whether Iwaizumi wanted to kiss him as much as he wanted to kiss Iwaizumi. This question was answered when Iwaizumi's eyes fluttered down to Oikawa's lips, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.

"Have fun tomorrow," Iwaizumi yawned.

"Will do," Oikawa yawned back. "Miss you."

Iwaizumi faltered for a second, as though struggling to comprehend the words. He soon broke out into another careful smile. Oikawa smiled back.

"Miss you too."

They didn't end the call. Oikawa watched as Iwaizumi was gradually lost to sleep, eyes fluttering shut and breathing growing deeper. His thin lips parted as he breathed against the pillow. He looked so peaceful, hugging the quilt to his chest. His face looked so soft, so gentle in its relaxed position. The stubble decorating his cheeks was almost enough to make Oikawa swoon. His eyebrows still furrowed on occasion, before he released a heavy sigh and his face relaxed again.

Oikawa found that Hajime mumbled a lot in his sleep. Three syllables that sounded suspiciously like his name, a fact that made Oikawa giggle to himself giddily. Was Iwaizumi thinking about him in his sleep? Oikawa wanted to glide his fingers along his face, wanted to kiss the long column of his neck, wanted to wrap his arms around his waist and hold him close.

Instead, he kissed the tips of his fingers and lifted them to the screen. He pressed them to Iwaizumi's lips.

"Thank you," he whispered, allowing his fingers to trace the shape of Iwaizumi's face. "For everything."

_You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think._

-*-*-*-

The next morning, Oikawa woke to find his laptop dead. The screen was black, reflecting a highly unattractive picture of him with his face half obscured by his pillow, the other half surrounded by a seemingly untameable bed head. He groaned.

Tooru sat up and rubbed at his eyes. Bright light was streaming in through the window, declaring the start of a new day. His first real day in Tokyo.

He grabbed his phone from his bedside table, opening it to find three new messages.

**Iwa-chan ❤️ [8:47am]** \- Have fun in Tokyo. Don't stress yourself out, you'll be great.

**Makki [8:50am]** \- i have been a good friend and ive stuffed marshmallows through ur mailbox. see i didnt forget them. love u tooru!!!!!!!!!!!! dont be such an ass next time.

**Iwa-chan ❤️ [8:53 am]** \- You drool in your sleep by the way. I took a picture.

Oikawa frowned. He didn't drool in his sleep. He would never do something so unflattering, he would never- oh. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand hurriedly, making a mental note to text Iwaizumi immediately to stop him from sharing the picture with anyone. Especially Bokuto and Kuroo.

But he had to get dressed for his first day before that, and he had to- _did Makki say he put marshmallows through his mailbox?_

Oikawa sighed. Life in Tokyo was going to be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT HAS BEEN SO LONG AND I AM SO SORRY SCHOOL GOT ON TOP OF ME AGAIN AND I WAS HIT IN THE FACE WITH A MASSIVE WRITER'S BLOCK WOW.
> 
> But I finally finished it!! Thank you to my wonderful Iwa for helping me get over my block ily!! Hopefully the next few chapters should be up quicker, but I can't promise anything with school and exams coming up :c I'll try my hardest though!
> 
> There aren't many chapters left, we're so close to the end now, so maybe two or three chapters? I'll see how it goes ^_^
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading, leaving comments and kudos. I love you all so much, thank you for being so supportive and sweet<3
> 
> (I was inspired to use the Winnie the Pooh quotes bc of a post of quotes on tumblr and they just fitted this chapter so perfectly oops)
> 
> Follow me on tumblr! http://bealikestowrite.tumblr.com


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